Starcrossed
by Okami-chan
Summary: G1. We can never control who we fall in love with. Those determined to be together will let nothing stand in their way. This is one such pair. Rated for slashy content and blackmail for sexual favors. Prowl x Sideswipe.
1. Off Duty

Off Duty

Prowl looked over all of his datapads one last time. He had finished the work on each of them, finally. So he could upload and relay the information. It had taken the better part of three days to get his desk clear of datawork. All interrupted of course, between the pranks and Wheeljack, Prowl was sure he would never get to enjoy some time off. He sent the data and checked his messages one last time. Satisfied that there was nothing important waiting, he left his office.

He warily made his way for the Ark entrance, certain that someone would stop him, need him to make a decision, need his assistance, plan for the next battle. Yet no one did. The only others he saw were Optimus and Sunstreaker, of all bots, down a side corridor, talking. And he figured he knew just why no one had stopped him.

Then Jazz spotted him, and inwardly Prowl groaned. He would never get away._ Interference, interference. Jazz talking equals never shut up. Worse than Bluestreak. Ah, but Jazz and music equals, relatively, quiet Jazz._

"Prowl, man, where ya headed?"

"Out," the tactician tersely replied.

Jazz grinned. "It looks like a great night for a drive, want some company?"

Prowl quickly pulled an audiotape out of subspace. "Well, I was thinking about looking at some of the outlying terrain to come up with a better emergency plan. Extracting Hound from that rock slide would have been much more efficiently accomplished if we had gone over more negotiable ground. Ratchet complained that it had taken much too long to reach him. If the slide had happened further out, in similar terrain, we may have been too late."

Jazz's smile faded. The Datsun knew the last thing the Porsche wanted was to be anywhere near the tactician while he considered tactics or anything remotely similar. Still Prowl felt bad for Jazz. He held up the colorful case in his fingers. "I was thinking you might be interested in the newest Madonna cassette. Perhaps even Blaster might enjoy it?" He would just have to pick up a replacement.

Jazz held out his hand, wriggling his fingers eagerly. "Nah, Blaster hates her."

Prowl dropped the cassette into Jazz's palm.

The saboteur quirked his mouth to one side and he subspaced the case. "Y'know if you didn't want me to go, y'could've just said so." With that he walked away.

The Datsun sighed and took those last few steps to freedom. As soon as his feet hit the packed dirt, he transformed and drove away from the big orange ship.

"_Optimus to Prowl_."

Prowl put more distance between him and the base. "_Prowl here._" He couldn't just ignore Prime.

"_What's your status, Prowl?"_

No matter how much he wanted to. "_I am off duty, sir._"

Though the line remained open, Prime said nothing for a long moment. When he did finally speak, he sounded surprised. "_Enjoy your time off then. Report to me when you return to duty._"

"_Affirmative._" Prowl sat low on his suspension. Prime wouldn't be saying that if he knew just how the Datsun was planning on spending his time.

The sun sat low behind the trees, casting the sky into flames. In turn those flames danced upon the red finish of a lone figure, sitting on a small hill. Prowl stopped and transformed, pausing to admire the sight. An unbidden image of red armor riddled with holes, smoking and sparking rose before his mind's optics. He squashed that particular thought with some difficulty.

The tactician opened a tight link. "_You might as well light a beacon, wave a flag and start shouting 'Here I am!'_"

A laugh answered him. "_Yeah, well any Seeker'd be able to see you , no problem. Even _Cliffjumper_ wouldn't be able to miss you!_"

Prowl made his way through the trees and plopped down next to the Lamborghini. Without another word he wrapped Sideswipe up in a crushing hug. Surprised, the melee warrior returned the embrace, though not as desperately.

"Slag, Prowl! What brought that on?" The red twin cocked a grin at the tactician. "You'd almost think it's been over four million years since we'd last been alone together."

The crew of the Ark had awakened only a year ago. They had been kept busy between Megatron, the humans, and rebuilding their army.

"I don't think a single unit has ever seen so much action in such a short period of time." Prowl's door wings drooped slightly. "I surmise I'm not used to seeing you come in so badly wounded so often.

Sideswipe rested his hands on the Datsun's shoulders. "And you have to order me in, is that it?" The Lamborghini kissed Prowl's lips reassuringly. "I'm not holding it against you. You have your job, I have mine. We both knew what the risks were when we signed up for the gig." The Lamborghini laughed. "Although, you signed up way before I came around."

Prowl sighed, leaning his forehead against Sideswipe's shoulder. _You just don't get it. Sometimes I wish I was as sparkless and calculating as the rumors paint me._ But he _did_ have feelings. He just wasn't allowed to act on them, or he would risk shorting out his battle computer. _And here Sideswipe is telling _me_ what I logically already know._

However last week Sideswipe had almost died. Again. If Ironhide hadn't gotten away and radioed the Ark, the Decepticon triplechangers would have had themselves a handsome trophy. Prowl had been the one to select Sideswipe for that mission. Knowing full well the danger he'd been placing both of the soldiers. Prowl also knew that if the same mission came up again, he would choose no differently.

Why couldn't Vector Sigma have let him be soldier material rather than officer?

These were sentiments Prowl couldn't quite put into words. They got muddled in his battle computer, and when he thought too long and hard on them, it threatened to shut down. So he expressed his feelings with kisses upon Sideswipe's lips and neck, in fingers digging into armor plating. Then the desperate kisses turned passionate and Sideswipe eagerly returned them, dancing his own fingers over Prowl's door wings.

Prime would have both their heads if he caught them together. He'd never trust his second-in-command, again. Officers didn't fraternize with the soldiers. No matter how long the war. Or how lonely.

Later, after night had darkened the sky, they lay side by side, passion sated. Sideswipe sighed, rolling his head to look at Prowl. "We really should do this more often."

A laugh rumbled through Prowl's ventilators. "It is really hard finding free time with certain nameless bots pulling childish pranks every time I turn around."

The Lamborghini snickered. "How else would you know I care?"

A smile tugged at the corner of Prowl's lips. "Humans send flowers."

Sideswipe lifted himself onto one elbow, draping his knee over Prowl's thigh. "You want flowers?"

The Datsun eyed the red twin leaning over him, this _was_ Sideswipe he was talking to. "No. No, that's quite alright."

The Lamborghini chortled.

Prowl stroked Sideswipe's cheek. "Thank Sunstreaker for me. He caught Optimus in the corridor."

Sideswipe ran a teasing finger down Prowl's chest plate. "He did it for me, 'cause I return the favor."

Prowl tilted his head, pulling his mouth to one side. "I see."

Then Sideswipe initiated a lustful, passionate kiss, silencing anything the Datsun was going to say.

One day, perhaps Prowl wouldn't have to hide his feelings for this soldier under his command. After this war, when they could both go to a simple life.

* * *

Author's note: This has been tickling me for a while now. After all, how often are these two paired up? (I've only ever seen it once, myself). I hope to add chapters every so often. I have three others planned. They will be in no particular order. 


	2. Off Balance

Off Balance

Time: Pre-Earth

* * *

Prowl stared intently at the monitors before him. Was that a blip, or a glitch? He keyed in a rescan of that area. Hands suddenly whirled him around, giving him a glimpse of gold plating. A fist impacted into his cheek structure, snapping his head to the side. He tried to stagger back, but a strong hand held him firm. Two more blows unhinged his jaw, and shattered his left optic. 

Rushing fluids in his audio sensors muffled Ironhide's angry voice. The other officers present forced his attacker away. Dizzy with pain, Prowl's hands slipped against the control panel and he fell to his aft. He stood and forced himself to focus on the sleek golden warrior, who was trying to fight off the restraining hands.

"Sunstreaker," he said, his loose jaw slurring the words, "why did you attack an officer?"

Sunstreaker stilled to glare at the second-in-command. "Don't act stupid!"

Ironhide shoved Sunstreaker's shoulder. "Don' talk that way t' Prowl."

Prowl steadied his head from another wave of vertigo. "What are you talking about?"

Acid hissed through those beautiful lips, so like his brother's. "You know what I mean."

"What's going on here?" Prime's voice bellowed through the control room. All heads turned to the Autobot commander. Piercing blue optics swept the mechs, taking in Sunstreaker's heaving form, and paused on Prowl' face No further questions were needed. "Ironhide, take him to the brig." Prime's mask lowered in a scowl. "Sunstreaker, I'll talk to you later. Smokescreen, help Prowl to medical. Jazz, tell me what the slag just happened.

The three relatively undamaged officers moved to obey. Ironhide snarled for Sunstreaker to 'git movin'. Smokescreen steadied Prowl. "You're wavering. Can you walk?"

Prowl nodded, though it made the room swim. He took a step to prove it, albeit an unsteady one. Smokescreen shrugged, but kept a hand on Prowl's elbow.

"Well, Prime, I'm not really sure what happened. Sunstreaker jus' waltzed in here 'n…" Jazz's voice faded as they rounded a corner.

Prowl ignored all the looks he received in the hall, pondering Sunstreaker's words.

The two Enforcers walked through the clear glass doors to the med bay. Ratchet looked up from where he was cleaning his tools.

"Slag! What happened?" The CMO took Prowl from the diversionary tactician.

Prowl gratefully sat on the medical berth Ratchet led him to. He gripped the edge in pain as the medic gently examined his face and moved his jaw.

"This is Sunstreaker's work." Ratchet scowled. "He could have knocked your battle computer out of sync. If he did, I'd have to turn him into a petrorabbit. How do you feel?"

The question caught the tactician off guard. "Dizzy."

"Lie down." Red hands steadied the injured mech. "What'd you do to slag him off?"

Prowl had been trying to figure that out while the medic had been talking. "I'm not entirely sure." He only had an inkling of what might be wrong.

"Maybe you've punished his glitch of a brother one too many times?" Ratchet chortled. He administered a sedative. "Speak of the 'Con."

"Hey Prowl! I heard Sunny dented you real good. What'd you do to fry his circuits."

Prowl's intact optic narrowed at the red twin, a plan formulating. "Sideswipe, you need to learn to keep your immaturity contained."

Sideswipe jerked to a surprised stop. "What?"

"Don't talk back to me. I expect to see you scrubbing the floors of section 23 Delta."

The red twin sputtered. "What! But no one even uses that area anymore."

Prowl managed a one-eyed glare. _Come on, Sides, don't argue with me right now._ "That doesn't mean it can't be kept clean." The security camera in the area had been offline for a metacycle, but there had been bigger problems to deal with.

Surprise turned to hurt, then to anger. Sideswipe turned and stormed out.

Ratchet paused in prepping for repairs. "I know you're mad at Sunstreaker, but do you really want to get on _his_ bad side."

The tactician shrugged. "It doesn't stop him from pulling pranks now." _He'll get me back later anyway. _The sedative kicked in and Prowl drowsed off, barely aware of the medic's ministrations.

* * *

The door whooshed closed behind him. Down the hall, Sideswipe angrily attacked the floor. Prowl winced as he recalled his words. 

The red twin looked up at the sound of the door. When he saw who it was, he snapped his head back down, intent on the surface before him.

Prowl knelt down next to Sideswipe. "Sides." He lifted the warrior's chin to look him in the optic.

Or at least he tried to..

Sideswipe jerked to his feet and stomped away. He knelt down and resumed his attack with the scrub pad.

Prowl watched the red mech for a moment before he sighed. He pulled a scrub pad out of subspace and picked up where the Toughline left off. They both remained silent for a few breems.

Suddenly Sideswipe threw his scrub pad down and glared at Prowl. "Prowl!" The Enforcer looked up from his diligent scrubbing of a particularly bad spot. "Slaggit, I can't stay mad at you when you're looking so fragging sexy over there!"

Prowl's doorwings drew back in surprise. Then a smile flitted across his lips. His chevron lifted a little. "Do you want me to stop?"

Sideswipe rose to his feet, scrub pad forgotten and knelt back down next to Prowl. "Nah, I like it when you make my engine turn over like that." Black fingers caressed the newly-hammered dentlines. "We've got to figure out another way to arrange alone time."

Prowl sighed. "I am working on it. It's just… problematic."

Sideswipe suddenly changed subjects. "What'd you do to get Sunny so mad." Wirelight lips traced the same path as the fingers.

Prowl's fuel pump stuttered as his circuits tingled. He couldn't form an answer for a breem. "Can't talk, when you're doing that," he finally stammered. He groaned, turning his head to capture the taller mech's lips. White hands gripped broad shoulders, and Prowl drew Sideswipe closer.

Sideswipe broke away panting. "Seriously, why's Sunny so mad at you?"

Prowl chuckled. "I was _trying_ to answer you." He sobered. "I was hoping you'd be able to tell me." The tactician sat back and related what Sunstreaker had said. Prowl frowned at Sideswipe from under his chevron. "You don't think…"

Blue optics bled to white as the warrior stared at nothing. Air hissed out of his ventilator. "He knows." The two mechs regarded one another with wide optics.

"Slag," Prowl muttered, glancing away. "It hasn't even been a vorn yet."

A half-smile quirked Sideswipe's lips. "Just how long did you think to hide it from Sunny? What?" Sideswipe winced at his lover's glower. "He's my twin. I didn't think it'd keep _this_ long."

Prowl sighed, nodding. "You don't think he'll… tell… anyone?" Fear quieted his vocalizer.

The red mech frowned, drawing Prowl into his arms, unconsciously possessive. "I hope not," and his optics narrowed in thought, "he wouldn't want to get me in trouble like that."

Prowl patiently waited as the twin thought aloud. It didn't hurt that he enjoyed being this close to Sideswipe. There were decacycles where they didn't dare get too close for fear of being caught. Stellar cycles of lonely recharge, waiting for the right moment. Normally, they could barely talk to each other.

So just being held in arms strong enough to rip apart a triplechanger, and to wrap his own arms around the wide back, brought a thrill to Prowl's processor. And befuddled his battle computer. He wanted to end this conversation and feel Sideswipe's lips on his chassis, to put his own mouth on Sideswipe. Just thinking about it made his fuel surge. His logical self, however realized how their relationship needed more than physical intimacy. He also enjoyed seeing the Prankster with such a serious, thoughtful expression. He enjoyed it as much as he knew Sideswipe enjoyed his smiles.

"He's jealous!" Sideswipe's voice brought the tactician out of his reverie.

Prowl tilted his head at the red mech. "Why? That's illogical."

"He's afraid of anything he thinks will take me away." A scowl darkened the red mech's pleasant face. "Ridiculous!"

"Maybe I should talk to him?"

Sideswipe's optics widened. "I don't know . He can be fragging over-protective. How would you, without anyone finding out, anyway? Red's security cameras are everywhere. And you're _not_ sending him down here! I'll never hear the end of it."

"I'll think of something," Prowl murmured, reaching up to nibble on Sideswipe's jaw.

Suddenly he didn't want to talk anymore.

He rose slightly and pushed the warrior to the floor . He dug his fingers into sensitive seams along the Toughline's armor, eliciting a moan from Sideswipe.

Sideswipe's fingers slipped into the junction between Prowl's doorwings and his back. The tactician panted against the red chestplate, his systems threatening to shut down from sensory overload. The red twin fingered the joints that turned his wings into the doors of his Enforcer form. Prowl arched his back, like an autolion, inviting the fingers to press harder.

He pulled himself up to lock lips with Sideswipe. His legs briefly shorted out, toppling him onto his lover. Static dotted his vision.

Sideswipe nipped at Prowl's helmet., wafting air over his audio sensors. "You okay?" The warrior's engine rumbled both aroused and amused.

"Nn. Don't stop."

Sideswipe didn't.

* * *

Author's Note: Er, completely made up alt modes for P & SS. Thank you for the positive reviews. I wasn't sure how many would be interested in this pairing. Mixing IDW and G1 time units. Let's see if I remember to do so next chap. Ffnet's eating my asterisk-scene-separator-thingie, hence the line. Let me know if it's confusing.  



	3. Off Kilter

Off Kilter

Time: Pre-Earth

* * *

Saying that the fight was going badly would have been an understatement. The slag had hit the turbines megacycles ago, and did not look to be improving. Ghostly husks of buildings rose amid the battlefield. Only the contested energon silo remained whole, but not for long if the Decepticons followed normal procedure. Obtain any resource possible; leave none for the enemy. They fought on the upper level of the multi-tiered Praxis Ra. Great metal plates supported what used to be a haven for the wealthy and well to do. War had turned it into as much of a slum as the lowest level. 

Sideswipe ducked behind one of the skeleton buildings, wincing as he jarred his leg. _Blitzwing and his slagging gyro disruptor rifle. _The triple changer had knocked him off balance, allowing one of the cassettes, a slagging _cassette_, to take a shot at him. He took a moment to look the hole in his thigh over. Internal repairs had already closed the fuel lines in that area, so there was not much energon around it. It did not look as bad as he thought, but it stung like the Inferno. Sideswipe glanced around the corner of the building, and swung back around just as two missiles swept past. He kept his sensors on the projectiles, but peeked around the building again. Astrotrain pelted the meager cover the others crouched behind. His sensors informed him that the tracer missiles had arced back around for him.

A touch on his arm made him jerk around, bringing his weapon to bear. The black and white mech stepped back in surprise. Sideswipe relaxed and smiled at Prowl. "Come to join the party?"

"Your leg?" More concern than his voice allowed etched into the second-in-command's face.

Sideswipe calculated less than two klicks until the missiles hit. "Need to move."

Prowl followed the warrior's gaze. He grabbed Sideswipe's arm and dragged him away, his grip tight with worry.

The explosion knocked them both to the ground. The section of plating they stood on groaned under their feet. More missiles exploded around them and a Seeker trine roared overhead.

"What happened to your jet pack?" Prowl shouted over the noise. They flattened themselves to the ground, as Astrotrain swept past, his lasers blazing.

"Same thing that happened to my leg. Why are they missing us?"

As if in answer, the plating groaned again, shifting. Then the entire thing buckled. The world spun, disorienting Sideswipe. He felt Prowl's hand scrabble for his, but just as suddenly it was ripped away. He tumbled aft over head, slamming into everything imaginable. The secondary plate crumpled under the weight of the first and started a chain reaction all the way down to the tenth level.

Sideswipe went offline.

* * *

Lights flickered in bewildering patterns through cracks in the rubble. At least he was not buried very deep. Sideswipe lifted a hand and shoved through the thin layer. Scrap metal tumbled to either side of the red mech. He ran a diagnostic as he scanned the area. Sometime during the fall had had slid off the plate entirely. The top of Praxis Ra no longer sparkled with laser fire and missile trails. 

Internal repairs had already started working on small things, like some of the energon leaks. Diagnostics told him that dents and his transformation cogs would need to be tended. Great. There goes fast travel. The fall had trashed his communicator as well, so no backup. His empty launcher lay a few dozen feet away from him. Which would explain the burning in his shoulder. Ow. Fragging glitches in a processor.

Slag. Was Prowl still at the top of the collapsed section? His optics swept around him and he activated his scanners, hoping for _something_ from Prowl.

He found the smaller Enforcer at the edge of the collapsed plates. The lowest corner of the top section stood hundreds of feet above them. "I am so glad you fell down here, Prowl." Sideswipe crouched next to the second-in-command, wincing at the energon still leaking from the tactician. "Prowl?"

Blue optics flash in response.

Sideswipe cast about to see if anyone was around. He leaned over and placed a lingering kiss on Prowl's lips

White hands cupped his audio sensors and gently pushed him away. Prowl's optics flickered on to look around. A smile graced the tactician's lips and he drew Sideswipe back down to finish the kiss. A pleased purr rumbled out of Prowl's engine. "What I'd give to online to this every recharge cycle."

_Prowl, sentimental?_ "You sure you're okay?"

"Headache, but kissing you mlbakes it better."

Did Prowl's vocalizer just glitch? Sideswipe decided it was his audios. He furrowed his brow ridge. "What does a diagnostic scan say?"

Prowl went silent, patterns running on his optics. "Internal repairs are already at work on some of the worst of it. " A frown creased his face. "I'm not getting a reading from my battle computer." Prowl sat up and one of his door wings groaned at the hinges, drooping listlessly. "Transforming's out olf the question."

Sideswipe grinned and draped an arm over the tactician's shoulder. "Looks like it's just you and me one-formers."

Prowl giggled.

Sideswipe rocked back on his heels, staring at his superior. "Prowl?" Concern laced his voice.

"One-formers." Giggle. "I'll have to remember that. Robots, no dilsguise," and Prowl curled into a ball of giggle fits.

Now Sideswipe was getting worried.

He reached out and tugged on Prowl's arm, managing to coax the still giggly tactician to his feet. Sideswipe put a finger on Prowl's lips. "Maybe you should be quiet. We really don't want to attract any unwanted attention to us."

Prowl nodded, and modulated his voice quieter. He slipped a kiss onto the warrior's finger, his frame still shaking with the amused rumble of his engine. "We should get back to base camp. Looks like the fight's olbver."

Sideswipe nodded and Prowl set off at a brisk place. The warrior attempted to follow at the same rate, but faltered when his leg nearly gave. Slag. He'd forgotten about that stupid hole. He called Prowl and the tactician turned.

"Oh." Prowl returned to Sideswipe's side. "I don't know what I wblas thinking. Here," he ducked his chevroned head under Sideswipe's arm. "Lean on me."

Prowl's height, or rather lack of it, made it a little difficult for the arrangement. After jostling about for a few klicks, Sideswipe finally managed a few burning steps. Then the tactician paused again. "Sides," Prowl barely spoke above a whisper, "Wherg arle we going agvain?"

Sideswipe stared down at the tactician shocked into silence.

* * *

Prowl and Sideswipe stared at the remains of the camp. It looked like everything had been pulled up in a rush. One tent still stood, its metal roof caved in with the imprint of a hand. Cables lay strewn about the mess of toss outs. 

Prowl's doorwings shook as a giggle squeaked out of his vocalize. "Look what happlens when I'm dnot holme. Leave for a cycle anb they lreave a mless. Sparlklings."

Sideswipe eased himself to his aft, holding his injured leg in front of him. "Did any of the medics leave behind any tools?"

Prowl planted his fists on his hips, a stern frown on his lips. "And how am I psl'pposed to tell?" Giggle.

_I am _so_ not letting you live this down, Prowlie._ "Could you look please?"

The tactician snickered as he rifled through the debris, a disturbing image to the warrior watching him. Suddenly he straightened, toolkit in hand and belted out a drinking song about an Autobot femme captured by a Decepticon warlord. Sideswipe hadn't realized Prowl even _knew_ that lewd song.

"Prowl." Sideswipe hissed.

The song stopped and flickering blue optics turned to the red warrior. A drunken grin curved Prowl's normally down-turned lips into a turbinebat's leer.

Sideswipe finally admitted it to himself. Something was seriously wrong with Prowl.

* * *

Sideswipe stretched the kinks out his partially repaired leg, watching as Prowl staggered out of the tent and plopped himself next to the Toughline. Energon still glistened along the tactician's form. That worried Sideswipe, it meant Prowl still had a leak. "So if camp has been struck, where to next?" 

Prowl lifted his head and stared in each of the eight directions. He tilted his head in thought. Another giggle bubbled out of his vocalize, "I don't- I can't brlememberer." He sobered. "That's so illogical." Glitching laughter snorted out of his closed lips. "I said illogicibal. Hee hee."

Sideswipe covered his optics, unable to watch the spectacle. Normally it would make his spark sing to see Prowl laughing, but right now, it took all of his will not to strangle his lover. "Would you mind running another diagnostic?"

The tactician got his laughter under control. "I can't. Dielgnoshtiks failed lastibit nightb. I can't bridng them balck online." He grinned at Sideswipe. "I hrthink I neled a bmedic."

"No joke." The warrior got to his feet, testing his leg. "Ready for the long walk back to Iacon?"

"Shurle."

Sideswipe kissed Prowl in the middle of his chevron and helped the tactician up. "We'll get you some help soon, sparkles."

Prowl stepped away a pout on his face. "I hate it when you call me that," or at least that is what he normally said. This time his vocalize glitched so badly that it nearly garbled the entire message.

"Slag," Sideswipe hissed. "Do you have any idea what might be wrong with you?"

"A-a-a guee-ee-sss?" The glitch seemed to about face from slurring to repetition. Not normal at all for a hardware problem. "B-b-b-attle clompewther." Very odd.

They walked as they talked, navigating the dark streets of Sunken City Delta. "That doesn't make any sense. I thought your systems froze if something went wrong with your battle computer."

"The-e-e-y do-el. Us-sually." Prowl pulled out a canister and a glowing stick popped out. He glanced to Sideswipe. "Dildju lo-ose yourspop?"

Sideswipe pulled out his energon goodie container and popped one into his mouth. "So, if usually you freeze, what happens only rarely?"

"I-I hlate the-e-ese." Prowl reluctantly ate the goody then he answered the question. "Doeln't re-e-member."

Sideswipe was about to ask why not when the distinctive noise of Seeker engines roared overhead. He shoved Prowl against a decrepit building, hiding the Enforcer's bright colors with his own darker body.

A contented purr rumbled out of Prowl's engine. His arms slipped around the warrior's back. Sideswipe looked down form watching the skies at the feeling of gentle nips on his chestplate. He shuddered at the wonderful feeling of Prowl dragging his fingers down the seams in his back. Prowl then reached up and kissed Sideswipe, his lips traced the strong jaw to nip at the black helmet. "It's been too long."

"Primus, Prowl. You're malfunctioning! You're not thinking clearly and I'm not taking advantage of that." _Much as I'd like to. Slag, that Enforcer can sure turn my engine. _A sound caught his attention and he clamped a hand over Prowl's mouth, silencing the tactician's reply. A seeker trine passed by overhead. He could not tell if it was the same ones as before or a different set. He did notice that they passed by slower and lower then the last ones. Primus fragging smelting pits of slag.

As soon as they vanished from sight, Sideswipe dragged Prowl into a building. He was not sure the tactician was up to a battle of any sort. Nor was he really, but he was used to long odds. Sideswipe was not willing to risk Prowl.

The sharp sounds of confident steps echoed in the streets. Sideswipe pulled out his gun, briefly checking its charge. Only half full. He had to make this quick. He glanced at Prowl to make sure the tactician was not in direct line of sight from the door, and noted the tactician's decidedly disquieted face. A quick scan revealed lower than normal temperature in his extremities. Slag, what else could go wrong?

The red mech pressed his back to the door, arming his gun. He listened, and watched the shadows that moved on the wall. He caught a glimpse of conehead shadows and glass cockpits. Then he threw himself around the threshold, opening fire. Lasers pelted his armor in return. His gun died with a subtle whine. He threw himself into their midst, piledrivers replacing his hands and he pounded on their wings, throwing them out of the doorway and into the street.

They howled at him, lashing out with their feet and fists when he got too close for comfort. Sideswipe snarled promises of pain in return. He grabbed one yellow arm, tossing the Decepticon into a wall. The other two took advantage of his brief attention to the yellow Seeker to sweep him off his feet with a smarting blow to his damaged thigh. They fell on him, tearing and denting his armor.

"Get olff hi-i-im," Prowl snarled. There was the characteristic 'pop pop' of Prowl's rifle and both Decepticons leapt to their feet shrieking in pain. _Poppoppoppoppoppop. _The Seekers transformed and took off, still screaming in pain.

Sideswipe sat up on his elbows to glare at the tactician. "You should have stayed put."

Prowl leaned against the building, visibly shivering. "Who-o-o's the-be syuper'or offic-c-cer?"

The warrior got to his feet and went over to the Enforcer. He put an arm around the tactician's waist, surprised at how cold Prowl was. "Let's go before they bring reinforcements."

Prowl nodded and stumbled along beside Sideswipe, his systems audibly fritzing. They traveled as fast as Sideswipe could push the tactician. The warrior ground his dental plates as he ignored Prowl's soft requests to stop; he was too tired to go on, to just leave him.

Finally Sideswipe had enough and he whipped about to face the shorter mech. He shook Prowl's shoulders, and fixed an angry stare on the tactician. "How can you ask me to do that, Prowl? I can't just leave you. Slaggit, you're still bleeding out, if I leave you, you'll die. Worse, the Decepticons could find you, it'd be too easy for them. I can't leave you. I'm not going to leave you. _I refuse to leave you._" He wrapped his shaking lover up in a hug, indulging in a momentary kiss. "I love you too much."

Prowl looked away, and conceded with a nod.

"You know if anyone else caught you, you'd both be slagged."

The two mechs jumped, startled out of their processors.

A sleek golden, and slightly worse for the wear, Toughline pulled up next to them and transformed into Sunstreaker's handsome form.

"Sunstreaker!" Sideswipe reached out to bang a hand on his twin's shoulder. "How'd you find us?"

The golden warrior blinked as if his brother should never have asked that question. He slowly turned and pointed the way they would come. "Did you think I'd leave you? Besides it wasn't that hard." A trail of dripped energon glowed in mockery of Sideswipe's attempts to stay hidden. "Where are you going anyway? New camp's that way." The golden twin frowned down at Prowl pointedly.

Sideswipe tightened his grip on the quivering tactician. "Prowl's not doing so hot, bro. He's a real mess."

Sunstreaker scowled thoughtfully at Prowl, his optics shifting as they changed to infrared. "Is he- Is he shaking? What's wrong with him?"

Prowl giggled suddenly, something he had not done for a while-to Sideswipe's relief. "I-I sbtill on-n-line yrrrou know."

"Tell you on the way."

Sunstreaker looked them over for a moment longer before he reached out to take Prowl. "I know you like cuddling with your superior, but it'd be faster if I take him." He gathered the black and white mech into his arms, with more care than he normally showed. "Just don't tell anybody. And you, stop laughing."

* * *

Sideswipe looked over at Prowl. Ratchet had been apoplectic, demanding to know just what the warrior had done to the tactician. It seems that the fall had knocked his battle computer offline, which then cascaded to throwing his other systems out of sync, such as his thermal regulator. There was a reason Prowl froze when his computer locked up. 

Both of them were supposed to be recharging, but Sideswipe found himself unable to rest, and he saw that Prowl already had a small collection of datapads to peruse. The tactician's door wings twitched and he looked up. A smile lit his face, quickly stifled.

"Shouldn't you be recharging?" the second-in-command asked.

Sideswipe regarded Prowl evenly, brow ridge quirked. "Shouldn't you?" he countered smoothly.

"Need something to occupy that troublesome mind of yours?" Another twitch of the doorwings, a soft rumble of an engine. A hidden message. _Say yes._

"Whatever."

Prowl looked around and slid off the gurney. He quietly made his way over to the red warrior, careful not to wake any of the other recharging patients. It was a small trek, as Ratchet had not wanted them to start shouting at each other and so separated them as much as he could. Prowl lay a datapad, screen down, on Sideswipe's chest. White fingers surreptitiously brushed down the warrior's forearm to grasp the black hand at the end.

"I expect a full report."

Sideswipe waited until the tactician had slipped back onto his gurney before he peeked at the screen. A time and coordinates was etched across the top of the screen. Strangely enough it was followed by a brief message, all printed so that no one would recognize the script. Prowl never liked to leave messages for his lover, written or verbal, for fear that they would fall into the wrong hands.

_I have no idea what I did. Did I make a fool of myself? _

Sideswipe set the datapad back down after memorizing those words, and the time for their next rendezvous before he cleared the screen. He looked at Prowl with a knowing smile on his lips and nodded. Twice.

_Oh, yes Prowl. You made quite a fool of yourself. _

Now how much could he make up, and still have his lover believe it?

* * *

Author's note: I attempted to work the glitches in without leaving Prowl's speech completely illegible. This chapter did not turn out as I'd planned. Originally they were going to make it all the way back to Iacon where Sunstreaker was waiting, but then I realized Sunny wouldn't abandon Sideswipe. So... Not much in the way of romance, but I tried to squeeze it in where I could.  



	4. Offline

Offline

Time: Earth

* * *

Sideswipe paused at the entrance to the med bay. In his time assigned to Autobot City, he'd come to learn the arrangement of the triage, mostly due to almost always being in the care of the medics. Code Blacks sat in the back, pain dulled with sedatives. Reds were in the middle, actively being worked on. Yellows sat close to the Blacks, perpendicular against the right hand wall. Greens lay against the left hand wall. Whites waited next to the entrance, and out of the way of the doors. 

He saw none of the crew of the shuttle anywhere.

His own injuries forgotten, he turned and headed toward the shuttle crash site. He ignored the people calling his name, his mind set on a singular purpose.

He reached the edge of the impact zone and looked down at the smoldering remains.

Where was Ratchet, directing the injured? Where was Ironhide, insisting he was fine? Where was Brawn offering to help move the debris? Primus, _where was Prowl?_

The sun glinted off his brother's golden armor. Sunstreaker was talking to an upset Hound. He couldn't bask in his brother's distant presence for long. He needed to find Prowl.

Sideswipe started for the shuttle, his fuel pump hammering, echoing the throb of his spark.

"Sideswipe, wait!" Sunstreaker yelled.

But Sideswipe didn't listen. The Protectobots paused in cleaning up to look at the red twin. Their optics slid back to where Sideswipe knew his brother was running up.

Hotshot grabbed Sideswipe's upper arm. "You really shouldn't go in there."

He jerked his arm out of the team leader's grasp and strode up the ramp and into the shuttle.

The smell of burnt wires and half-processed energon assaulted his olfactory sensors.

First Aid straightened from where he worked on Brawn. "Sideswipe, what are you doing here?"

He couldn't make the scene before him compute. "Where's Ratchet?" he finally choked.

The medic's visor dimmed and he silently gestured toward the fore of the shuttle. Tarps covered mech-sized lumps. Sideswipe couldn't get it into his cortex that they were people.

First Aid materialized at his side. "Why aren't you in medical? You're damaged."

Sideswipe gaped at Aid briefly. His optics slid back to the tarps. As if he just needed a second look, he saw a dark grey hand, one that had beaten so many Decepticons, covered in energon.

There under that tarp, a boxy chest and two protrusions like Ratchet's chevron.

His fuel pump threatening to fail, his optics turned to the last tarp. Door panels peeked out of the edges.

"No." Sideswipe's legs nearly gave out as he recognized that profile. He couldn't bring himself to call it Prowl, not yet, he had to be sure. He had to _see. _Bluestreak and Smokescreen, both of them, they all have that same conformation. It had to be one of them. Had to be. He moved almost without thinking, crumpling to his knees, dragging the tarp off. Shaking, he stared down at the Datsun. His head hurt and he panted as his cooling system couldn't keep up with his overclocked processor. Black fingers caressed the cold, ash grey crown. It couldn't be, but it was: Prowl.

He looked up at the silent medic. "Why aren't you doing something to help them? You're supposed to be Ratchet's slagging protégé. Save them!"

First Aid just stood there, fists clenched at his side, visor dark.

His fuel tanks churned in objection to his overheating system. He curled over Prowl's form, silently begging the tactician for some kind of response.

Aid's hand appeared on his shoulder. "Sideswipe, I know what they meant to you, but-" Sideswipe whirled, his black fingers latching onto the medic's throat.

"Know?" he bellowed, rising to his full, formidable height. First Aid's head pressed against the shuttle's roof. "You know what he meant? How could you? How could you know anything? How could know that I-" His voice cut off in a short burst of static. Millennia of habit kicked in. What did it matter now if he said anything? How could their punishment be any worse than the ache in his spark.

"Let him go, Sideswipe," Hot Spot ordered.

First Aid dropped to the floor with a crash. Sideswipe couldn't take anymore. With a wail he shoved past Hot Spot and threw himself at the ground. His bumper impacted the hard rock as he struggled through his transformation. His wheels fought for purchase and he took off.

Sunstreaker hollered after him, beating back the Protectobots trying to restrain him.

Sideswipe's bottom carriage dragged painfully against the ground as he drove heedless of the rough terrain. He scrambled out of the crater and throttled away from the lifeless husk of his lover.

He couldn't say it. There was nothing they could do to him and he still couldn't say it. Couldn't say that he loved Prowl. He ignored everyone he passed, striking anyone who didn't move out of his way. He blasted static at everyone trying to reach him, and then turned off his communicator. He shuttered himself from his bond to Sunstreaker.

He drove. Away from the shuttle. Away from Metroplex. He drove on the interstate, ignoring the sirens that chased him. Reminded him. Then he turned off, onto a hidden dirt track, where he jolted to his feet and thrust himself into the foliage.

Warnings of low fuel levels flashed across his vision, but he disregarded them, intent on his destination.

He collapsed at the top of a hill, the crest worn bare from previous visits. He curled into himself, his arms wrapped around his head. He covered his optics; he could still see Prowl's still form. He pressed his palms to his audio receivers; he could still hear that Primus-awful silence. He stopped ventilating; the smell of death lingered.

His systems warned of overheating, accompanied by low fluid levels. He shut down unnecessary systems.

He couldn't remember Prowl's smile, only the look of shock imprinted on his face. He couldn't remember that rare laugh that he always sought to bring out, only stillness, only the quiet. He longed for that warm, gentle touch, but his fingers could only feel cold metal.

Armor crumpled under his crushing grip. Shudders racked his frame and a stressed whine rumbled out of his vocalizer. Overtaxed systems heated. He couldn't even yell at Prowl for breaking any promises. They had both agreed never to make any. They were in the middle of a war, it would be illogical.

He'd just never expected to outlive Prowl.

He squeezed his optics shut. _Slaggit, Prowl, I'm the fragging warrior. Why did it have to be you?_

The diagnostic overlay in his optics warned of imminent stasis lock from overheating.

Arms wrapped around him from behind.

Surprised he brought his optical sensors back online. "Prowl?" Desperate hope made his voice raise a few octaves.

"No, I'm _much_ better looking." Gold hands forced Sideswipe to look up into steel blue optics. "Primus, bro, I didn't want you to go in there. What a welcome home. You're hot…" he murmured, his fingers caressing Sideswipe's face. "Slag, why aren't your ventilators working? You're _not_ that damaged! Don't do this to me, Sides," A frantic call erupted over all frequencies. Arms clutched tightly at the red frame. "Please."

* * *

AN: This isn't the end. There's still more stories to tell. 


	5. Turned Off

Turned Off

Time: Earth

* * *

Sideswipe stood back for a moment to admire his work. Yes, yellow really did bring out steel blue, but it didn't look so good on Tracks. Especially not post-it note yellow. He may not have Sunny's artistic eye, but he figured that a bronzer yellow would go well with the vain mech's optics and his personality, or he could just stick to his normal cobalt. He ensured his 'masterpiece' was still in recharge before he left the lounge. Two pranks in one night. He felt accomplished.

He tucked his hands behind his back, hiding the evidence of his earlier prank, and made his way to the wash racks. He even paused to chat with a few of his friends along the way. See he could be a nice, civil mech unlike certain Dandelions of Death. He cleaned the evidence of his pranks from his hands, and road dirt from his body.

Arms slid around him from behind, and he felt the twin pinpricks of a chevron. Sideswipe stiffened, optics wide. '_It can't be. He wouldn't dare, not in full view of Red's camera._' The mech behind him nibbled on the edges of the warrior's windshield. His vision darkened as he imagined his lover behind him, doorwings flared in arousal. His cortex turned the rumble of the other mech's engine into a familiar purr. Fingers dug into his abdominal plating and Sideswipe's own engine crooned to life. '_Oh, Primus, I need to get with Prowl.'_

Sideswipe leaned back into the shorter mech. Datsun short. Air whispered from his ventilator as he mouthed his lover's name. The exploratory fingers caressed his headlights. Sideswipe moaned, systems heating in response to the sensory input.

_'Why not? Prowl will never know. He's here, right now, and you won't get in trouble for it.'_

The other mech slid around to press against the warrior's front, chestplate to chestplate. Deft fingers slid into armor seams and warm lips captured the red twin's. Sideswipe kept his optics offline, allowing his fantasy to play in his mind. He found himself leaning into the kiss, responding to the touch. His own hands lifted and he gripped the doorwings he knew were there.

"Sides."

Just like that his fantasy broke. He activated his optics and stared down at the grey Datsun. "Bluestreak." He couldn't quite modulate the disappointment out of his vocalizer. His engine softly puttered out and his circuits cooled.

Bluestreak regarded him with suspicion. "Why weren't your optics on? Was I boring you that much? Because I'm sure I can think of something more exciting if that's the case. I know you hate being bored, it's almost like what the humans call an allergy with you. You just begin itching to do something."

Sideswipe grunted and silenced the gunner with a lust less kiss. Bluestreak responded eagerly, pressing against the red twin, while his fingers resumed their dance over sensitive circuits.

It wouldn't be the first time Sideswipe had a fling with Bluestreak. Prowl had the idea that one way to draw suspicion of any kind off of them was for one of them to have plausible deniability. The tactician calculated that it would look odd if both of them remained completely unattached for an extended period of time. Sideswipe would be the first to admit that Prowl was the bigger mech. He would never have been able to stand idly by, knowing his lover was in the arms of another.

Although those previous times had been with both Prowl's knowledge and permission.

Sideswipe broke away and took a step back. "I can't."

Bluestreak frowned. "_Now _you can't? You didn't seem to mind a few klicks ago. And I know I'm not the best looking mech, and that I talk a lot, but that never seemed to bother you before."

'_Ah Blue, all you need is to be colored black and white and you'd be perfect._' But he couldn't exactly say that. "It's not you Blue, it's me.

The Datsun's doorwings drew back. "You've been watching too much human TV if you think I'm going to believe that. I never thought you liked soap operas anyway. That always seemed more like Blaster, or Hound. You remember how they would always watch those vidcordings of 'Lost without Recharge,' and 'Sparked at the Moment'. I don't think even they ever used such a silly line."

Sideswipe's jaw worked as he tried to think of a smart retort.

"What? Are you thinking about someone else? Smokescreen? Streetwise? I'm here, right now. They aren't." Bluestreak's grip on Sideswipe's waist tightened. He pulled the red twin in for another kiss.

_Primus, Blue. Did you read my mind earlier?_

A little voice in the back of his cortex, the one that always got him in trouble had to add in, _Prowl would understand. It's all in the name cover-up._ At the same time, he ached for Prowl, and he couldn't pretend talkative Bluestreak was the quieter, soft-spoken tactician by a long shot. He didn't want to hurt Bluestreak's feelings, but he couldn't bring himself to desire Bluestreak. He indulged in the seductive kiss for only a moment longer before he firmly pulled himself away. "I can't, Bluestreak. I'm sorry."

Sideswipe turned the shower off and walked out, dripping wet. He stomped down the corridors of the Ark and nearly mowed Jazz over, so distracted was he.

"Whoa, Sideswipe." Jazz grinned as he wiped at the wet spots on his chestplate arms and legs. "Ratchet'd have a fit if someone slips an' hurts themselves in one a' yer puddles. Might wanna dry off." Jazz pulled a towel of subspace, though what he was doing with one was beyond the warrior. Sideswipe took the proffered cloth. The saboteur's grin widened, a truly typical Jazz feat, as it never seemed possible, but he always managed it. "Prowl wouldn't be terribly happy if he found out yer leavin' a mess for someone else ta clean up."

Sideswipe paused to stare at the saboteur. Jazz's grin gave away nothing but his amusement. The red twin quickly wiped off the last noticeable drop and shoved the towel into Jazz's hand. He quickly got away from the saboteur. Such an innocent little statement, so why did it send his fuel pump racing with panic. Jazz had the uncanny habit of making Sideswipe insensibly nervous. Like he knew The Secret. How Sideswipe couldn't figure out. He'd have to talk to Prowl, maybe the tactician could think of anything that might have given them away. In the morning. Midnight had come and gone while he was busy.

Sunny already lay in recharge when Sideswipe entered their quarters. He shelved his launcher and climbed onto the top bunk. Sideswipe clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the orange ceiling, settling his systems into recharge. When he shuttered his optics, the feeling of phantom fingers on his chest, and phantom lips on his neck, brought him right back online. His ventilators worked to cool off the heat brought on by his engine suddenly coming to life. Sideswipe laid there, half expecting Bluestreak, or, even better, Prowl, to materialize next to him.

His berth suddenly jolted. "Sides, you'd better not be plugged into yourself up there. I'm trying to recharge here, and I can't if your engine's droning."

Sideswipe harrumphed, but cut his engine off. "You're the one who needs to self-stimulate. I've got mechs jumping me in the wash racks."

The berth jolted again from another vicious kick. "Shut up, bro. At least I don't have nothin' to hide. So who's jumping you in the showers?"

"Well, he's a Datsun."

Sideswipe could almost feel Sunny start in surprise. "He wouldn't dare," the gold twin hissed. "Not under Red's camera, not here in the ark."

Sideswipe grinned to himself, he couldn't quite resist nettling his brother. "You know Red enjoys the show."

An annoyed growl rumbled from Sunstreaker's vocalizer. "All right, smart aft. So who was it- Wait, it was Bluestreak wasn't it? He and Hound were chugging high-grade when I left the lounge." A pause. "Did you?"

"No."

Sunstreaker chuckled. "Got yourself all revved up over it though, didn't you? What'd you do imagine it was Prowl?"

"Thought you wanted to recharge Sunny." Sideswipe had no desire to tell his brother just how revved up he'd gotten.

"Slagger. Don't wake me up again."

The red twin could hear his brother's systems cycling down again for recharge. Sideswipe went through the various ways of arranging for a rendezvous with his superior officer, until he finally settled on one. Hopefully the tactician could escape his duties for a few megacycles. Sideswipe still wanted to talk to him about Jazz.

* * *

"_Jazz ta Prowl."_

Prowl snapped online from a deep recharge. He lay still for a moment as his systems booted up. _"Prowl here."_

"_Sorry ta wake ya, but Gears just found Tracks in th' training room._"

Prowl sat up and swung his legs off the berth. He registered the time on his chronometer: 0630. "_This is unusual… why?_"

Jazz chuckled over the comm. "_Th' fact that he's tied up t' th' punchin' bag an' covered in sticky notes._"

The second-in-command indulged in a chuckle to himself. "_I would rate that as unusual_." He stood and strode out of his quarters. "_Did he say who did it?_" Though he didn't really have to ask. He knew who it was. It had Sideswipe written all over it.

"_Ah, c'mon. Y'know why he's the favorite target of our fav'rite pranksters. It's imposs'ble ta wake him, when he's rechargin'. Are y'comin'?"_

A frown crossed Prowl's face, although the Porsche couldn't see it. "_Jazz, untie him. This isn't a human circus."_

"_Aww, yer no fun Prowl."_

He could already hear Tracks' voice reverberating through the vents. _"My sense of fun tends to dissipate in the face of grumpy, sleepy mechs." _He pulled up the duty roster. "Ratchet_ is presumably in recharge. If he wakes up, I'm sending him to you."_

_"Man, Prowl, that's mean. What'd I do to deserve this?"_

Prowl stiffened, his movements growing jerky with contained anger. He cut off the communications. If he responded to that, he'd explode. If he exploded, he risked revealing his secret. He couldn't do that, didn't dare. He stopped at the entrance to the training room to compose himself.

"When I get my hands on that arrogant, stupid Lamborghini, I'll make him wish Ratchet had gotten a hold of him instead. I'm covered in glue. My finish is ruined!"

Jazz barely contained his snickering as he pulled yellow Post-It notes off Tracks' back. The tiny yellow squares littered the ground around the two sports cars.

"Are you saying you saw him do it?" Prowl examined the scene in an attempt to find evidence of the perpetrator. He wasn't surprised to not find any.

Tracks paused in picking at another square to look at the Datsun. "Well, no…" He suddenly stepped forward, prodding a finger at Prowl's chest. "But you know it was him! You're not going to let him get away with this _again_, are you?"

Prowl tilted his head, his optics continuing their scan of the room. "If we can prove it was him, I'll deal with it."

Tracks shook his fists at the ceiling. "Argh! You _know_ it was him! Who else would pull such a childish stunt?"

Finished with his scan, he turned to the blue warrior. "He is innocent until proven guilty. You know that." He smiled reassuringly. "At least you weren't damaged, this time."

"Not damaged? Didn't you hear me? My _finish_ is ruined, how can I look my best when I'm covered in glue?"

"Hey Huffer!" Jazz called to the minibot who walked into the room. "Why don't you come over here and help Tracks get all these sticky notes off."

Tracks stiffened, shooting Prowl a pleading look.

"My finger joints are all stiff, but I guess I can try." The little minibot pulled one of the yellow papers off Tracks' leg.

Prowl wore his blank face. "I'm going to look at the video feed, there should be something there." The tactician turned and headed out, Huffer's and Tracks' complaints echoing in his receptors.

Jazz slid up beside him, smile in place. "Need some energon? I figured y'musta come straight here and could use a refueling."

Prowl shook his head. "I'll grab it on my way to the command center. Thank you though."

Pounding feet was the only warning Prowl was given. He suddenly found the world spinning, and hands grabbed his arms to steady him. Red flashed before his vision before his optics rebooted themselves. The other mech pressed a crumpled ball of paper into his hands. That single action narrowed the identity of the individual down to one mech.

"Sorry Prowl." Sideswipe waved and continued his dash down the hall.

"_Sideswipe, where were you last night_?" Turning to block Jazz's view, his doorwings rising in faux ire, Prowl uncurled his fingers.

"_Talking with Smokescreen, showered , then I hit the berth_." A pause. "_Why_?"

Seemingly meaningless markings covered the paper, but Prowl picked out a bold curving hump followed by three chevron-shaped lines. The hill, third shift. Most of the crew would be offline in recharge. "_I was wondering if you knew anything about Tracks_?" Three clicks in the transmission gave agreement to the rendezvous.

"_Tracks? What about Tracks?_" Came the well-practiced innocence.

Jazz snickered as Prowl flicked his doorwings in annoyance.

"Well, guess y'couldn't expect no better from him."

Prowl shrugged. "Didn't hurt to ask."

"Oh and about th' video feed…" Jazz had Prowl's full attention. "Th' cameras have been fritzing again."

The tactician wanted to do nothing more than bang his head against the wall. There went that idea. Still he could at least try, a shot in the dark, as the humans might say. He swung by the lounge and retrieved a mug of energon for himself, forcing Jazz to get his own.

"Don't you have patrol?" Prowl didn't raise his eyes from the report in his hand.

"Check the roster again."

Prowl paused to glare at the Porsche. "What did you bet about this time?"

"Th' next target. 'Screen thought for sure it'd be Jack's lab."

Prowl rapped his fingertips against the back of the datapad in his hand. He didn't like it when Jazz pulled stunts like that and the saboteur knew it.

"Hey Prowlie, shift's covered, right? Ain't that all that matters?"

The second-in-command rumbled indecipherable words. Jazz laughed and hooked his arm around Prowl's waist, spinning him merrily. Prowl slapped a hand over the mouth that swooped down for a kiss. Jazz didn't even pause, but released him, grin still in place.

"Well, I'm gonna see if Blaster feels like a com'dy. Y'wouldn't wanna sneak outta work and join us?"

Prowl gulped his energon down and tossed the empty cup at Jazz. He turned on his heel and walked away. His audio receptors caught the sharp smack of Jazz catching the cup.

"Hey now, Prowlie, mechs get in trouble for throwing things." Jazz called after Prowl.

"Privilege of rank," Prowl tossed back.

He turned a corner and nearly ran Sunstreaker over. The two Autobots shared a long look, both warning the other against speaking. Sunstreaker rubbed at a scuff from the impact with Prowl and stalked off.

The tactician watched the golden warrior continue down the hall and let himself relax in the slightest. Sometimes he wondered how things would be if he didn't have to hide his love for Sideswipe. Somehow he doubted Sunstreaker would welcome him with open arms and spark. But at least he wouldn't be pestered by unwanted advances.

* * *

Ironhide stood in front of the monitors, arms crossed over his chest. Prowl flicked his doorwings in surprise. "Where's Red Alert?"

Ironhide snorted. "Tol' him ter get lost. He hasn't recharged in three days. Tol' him I'd let Ratchet turn him into a toaster if he was caught."

A smile touched Prowl's lips. Red Alert distrusted the CMO, with his constant threats. The Security Officer was convinced Ratchet would follow through one of these days.

"I don't suppose we have footage of the training room from last night?"

Ironhide entered a few commands. "Nope. Sorry thar, Prowl. They weren't working, still aren't."

Prowl narrowed his optics. Why would Smokescreen think someone was going to set a prank in the lab? "Wait, what about Wheeljack's lab?"

Ironhide shook his head. "Not since 'Jack blew them up th' other day. Grapple hasn't had a chance to replace them." The old mech grumbled. "We should move th' lab out to the old medical bunker."

"It's too exposed there. That's why we moved the med bay back inside, remember." Prowl ran calculations through his battle computer.

"Yeah, yeah."

It wouldn't be too hard to do something to Wheeljack's lab. There were enough inventions to cater to the simplest of pranksters, much less the Prankster Prime. The only problem was that many of those inventions had a tendency to…

The Ark shook and rumbled.

… explode.

Ironhide turned wide optics on the tactician. Though the older mech shouldn't be surprised by the occurrence, it happened often enough that even Red Alert was inured to them.

"Chip was helping Wheeljack this mornin'."

Prowl whirled around and charged down the hall, doorwings flared stiffly behind him. "_Prowl to Ratchet._"

"_Get First Aid to slagging do it,_" came the sleepy snarl. "_Wheeljack deserves it if 'Aid crosses wires fixing him._"

"_Chip was in there as well._"

Prowl quietly muted his side of the channel of blistering words that followed.

"_First Aid,_" Ratchet snapped over a general line,"_report to Wheeljack's lab._" The CMO switched back to private. "_I'm on my way._"

Smoke, grisly and green, poured from the blackened, partially-opened doorway. A grey hand gripped the edge of one of the doors. Prowl braced his own hands and shoved the doors the rest of the way apart. He caught the inventor as he staggered out of the lab.

His broken vocal indicators sparked, lighting up his charred and wrecked armor. Chunks had been taken out of his shoulder and thighs, exposing broken wires. Wheeljack leaned heavily against Prowl, coughing to clear his ventilators.

In his left hand he cradled the swooning, bloody body of Chip.

"Smoke's noxious," the inventor choked. He put action to words and moved away from the tactician, sliding along the wall and away from his lab.

Prowl paused to glance at the mess inside the lab, and then swept over to support Wheeljack. Not even half a breem later, First Aid appeared and took the human away from Wheeljack.

Ratchet was right behind his apprentice. The CMO glanced at Wheeljack, but his optics focused on Chip.

Wheeljack repeated his warning about the smoke and Ratchet all but dragged them into the med bay. Prowl waited, patient but worried, while Ratchet examined Chip. True to his words, he let First Aid work on Wheeljack. Tools designed especially to treat their small human friends retracted into Ratchet's fingers. An oxygen mask covered the boy's face, and white bandages wrapped his head. The CMO stalked over to glare at his best friend.

"What slagging aft-headed thing were you working on _this_ time?"

Prowl continued to wait, the question had been crackling in his vocalizer since he'd seen Chip in Wheeljack's hand.

"Schematics."

Both tactician and the two medics blinked. "Schematics did _that_?" Ratchet jabbed a finger at the bandages.

"No…" Wheeljack winced as First Aid fiddled too close to still sensitive wires.

"Then _what_?" Ratchet exploded.

"Spring loaded trap. Is he okay?" Wheeljack suddenly asked, straining to see around the medic's boxy form.

Prowl turned to Ratchet for the other question he wanted answered.

"He almost wasn't. He will _be_ okay, though. Mild concussion, smoke inhalation, poisoning. Luckily I got to him before it became much worse." Ratchet wasn't being egotistic, but truthful. First Aid wouldn't have known what to do about the human besides the most basic of treatments. The junior medic liked the humans well enough, unlike certain golden twins, but tended to disregard their medical needs.

Ratchet eyed the inventor. "So what the slag exploded."

"The weights attached to the net hit my explotivegidget."

Prowl watched as the CMO considered whether he could be still mad at Wheeljack. Normally he would have found the scene amusing, but looking at the little body on the medical berth, he couldn't find anything funny.

And he _knew_ who was to blame. Even if he had no proof.

And that made him furious.

* * *

Sideswipe stared up at the stars, twirling a branch in his fingers. He wondered if Prowl was going to renege on his promise to meet out here. When he'd returned from patrol, Prowl had called him into his office. The tactician had very coldly asked about his whereabouts again. It wasn't until after talking to Prowl that he heard about Chip.

The branches cracked and moaned with the weight of something pressing against them, and Sideswipe turned, gun in hand. Moonlight gleamed off a white chest and helm. Sideswipe put his gun away and reached out to draw the Datsun to him.

Prowl stood there, unresponsive as Sideswipe lavished him with kisses. The warrior ran his fingers up Prowl's back and dug them into the joints of his doorwings. The panels moved, and the white and black mech grabbed at Sideswipe as he sagged. Both of their engines rumbled as Sideswipe pressed his lover to the soft earth. Prowl gripped Sideswipe's arms as the larger mech pressed his fingers under plating to reach sensitive circuits. Yet the Datsun still didn't return the caresses or the kisses. Sideswipe murmured words for his lovers audio's only, capturing his lips in a deep kiss.

A moan rumbled from the Datsun's chest, and one of his white hands traced a line from the red arms up to Sideswipe's face plate. Prowl's fingers gently caressed the warrior's cheek.

Sideswipe nipped at Prowl's lips, and turned his attention on the wires and cables of the other's neck.

Prowl's fingers pressed the red twin's face away.

The two stared at one another, until the black and white mech sat up, forcing Sideswipe to his aft.

"I can't do this, not right now."

Gears ground in frustration as the Lamborghini growled. "Why?"

The tactician shook his head, refusing to look at the warrior. "I can't _be_ your lover, the officer in me is getting in the way."

"What?" Shock doused Sideswipe's purring engine.

Seeming to realize what he had implied, Prowl took one of the red twin's black hands into his own. "Just right now. I'm too mad. I look at you, and all I can see is _Chip_, bleeding in Wheeljack's hand."

The warrior opened his mouth, denial on his vocalizer.

"_Don't._ Don't lie to me. Not when we're here as equals." The black and white doorwings drooped. "Why did you have to do that when you knew you were going to request a rendezvous."

"I didn't know." Sideswipe said softly.

Prowl's gaze settled on the red twin.

"Prowl, I'm-"

"If you continue in that circuit, I'm going to drag you down to the brig right now, and slag what anyone thinks."

The red twin sighed. "Can we talk about something else, then?"

Prowl was silent a moment, his doorwings shifting as he considered the warrior. "About?"

"Jazz."

Air hissed from the tactician's ventilators, drawing Sideswipe's guilty, wondering optics. "What about Jazz?"

Sideswipe related the disturbing, one-sided conversation he'd had with the saboteur. Sideswipe thought he imagined the brief look of panic on Prowl's face, one that was quickly replaced by a neutral mask. "Prowl, did we give ourselves away? Does Jazz know? Does _anyone else_ know?"

"I'm sure it was simply coincidence."

Sideswipe narrowed his optics. The tactician didn't believe in coincidence, for logic and coincidence didn't mesh very well. "Prowl, is there anything _I_ should know?"

The second-in-command stood and stepped over to Sideswipe. He bent down and placed a kiss on the warrior's cheek. "I love you," he whispered before he straightened and walked away.

"_Slaggit, Prowl, that's not answering my question._"

"_I will answer when I am _ready_ to, not before._"

Sideswipe dug his fingers into the dirt packed from their weight. "_What the slag is that supposed to mean?"_

"_Please, just trust me._"

The warrior threw himself onto his back, arms spread. Slag, frag, slotted smelting scrap. Prowl was _hiding_ something. The tactician, who hated evasion and omission, was not telling the truth somewhere. And slaggit, he still wanted Prowl.

* * *

Author's note: I feel like I keep introducing questions and not answering them. So, here's the answer to how Prowl handles Sider's pranks. Thanks for the comments so far, hope you're still enjoying the ride. 


	6. Off to the Side: Jazz

Off to the Side: Jazz

Author's note: Perhaps now would be a good time to say that this is not in chronological order. And if that doesn't boggle your mind, try this: Turned Off (last chapter) takes place _during_ this one, and the next chapter will also take place during this one, but _before_ Turned Off. --;; I think I'll put a chronology up when I feel this story is finished (approximately three chapters from this one). Also this was originally going to be Sunny's chapter, but Jazz hijacked it.

WARNING!: Non-consensual sex and blackmail between two Autobots.

Time: Earth

* * *

Sunny an' me don't have a lot in common. He's a big, burly warrior, relyin' on his strength an' not so much on his cortex. If I trusted only my strength, I'da been dead vorns ago. Sunny's one half of a twinned spark. There's no slaggin' way I understand that. No one can. Sunny's antisocial, an' some might say I'm a social butterfly. I just like to think I'm friendly.

Nevertheless there's one thing we share in common. We both love someone and can't do nothin' about it. His lover is still on Cybertron. I can't even call my interest a lover, 'cause he's spurned every single one'a my advances. Still, Sunny an' I find a strange camaraderie in not being able to have what we most long for. Not that either of us spend every recharge alone. We both find substitutes to tide us over until the cycle we're in our desired's arms.

So when I saw my opportunity, naturally I seized it.

I was monitorin' th' grid while Prowl was working through what went wrong in th' last battle. I didn't quite understand the diagrams he was lookin' at. I knew that somehow th' 'Cons had separated all three of our gestalt teams. Devastator an' Bruticus had both torn up a good majority of our troops, an' the city to boot. Most of th' crew were still in recovery, or working despite their partial repairs. Ratch was fritzin' because he doesn't have th' materials on hand for some of th' repairs, an' has to wait for them. As a result, Prowl was missin' one'a his doorwings, an' I could see him shiftin' ta regain his balance every so often. I think I got off the lightest outta all'a us. I just had a few holes blown through me, all'a them missin' vital circuits and parts.

"Prowl," Prime stepped up behind his second-in-command. I saw in his face somethin' I rarely saw, an' never directed at Prowl. Suspicion. Naturally my nosy self took th' trouble to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Prime's voice dropped a few decibels, but I could still hear him. "I was wondering if you could explain some inconsistencies in your activities."

I love my visor, it lets me tilt my head ever-so-slightly an' observe without bein' observed. Prowl's expression shifted so quickly, I almost thought I imagined his surprise. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, Prime." The Datsun pitched his voice low, so I had ta strain t'hear him.

Maybe Prime was havin' the same problem, 'cause he leaned closer. "Are you sure there's nothing I should know about, Prowl?" Trust Prime not t' outright accuse anyone, at least not before they have a chance ta defend or explain themselves.

I saw Prowl struggle to keep his façade. That's when it hit me. Slag, Prowl was _hiding_ something. He was thinkin' about, or probably had been, _lying_ to Prime. An' I knew Prime realized this, and it hurt him. Of all the mechs Prime put his trust in, Prowl was always th' least likely to betray him. He was too by th' book, he'd pob'ly arrest himself first.

"No, Prime," Prowl finally said.

Anger touched our commander's optics an' he pulled a datapad out of subspace an' thrust it into Prowl's white hands. "Then you have a reasonable explanation for why you weren't where you say you were."

Prowl ducked his face out of Prime's sight, hiding under the edge of his helm an' his chevron as he looked the datapad over. Prime couldn't see it, but I could. Prowl's optics widened at what he read an' his face slacked in shock and fright. I could almost _see_ him processing for a reason for whatever it was.

I managed to catch a few dates and times as Prowl scrolled through them. I didn't know what Prowl was hidin', but that didn't mean I couldn't help.

"Aw, man, Prime. I didn't know you was monitorin' our extracurricular activities."

Both of them turned to look at me, both surprised.

"You know where he was?" Prime asked.

_Prowlie, man, I hope y' ain't betrayin' us t' th' 'Cons. _Of course that was ridiculous. Prowl of all bots? Tch, right and the Dinobots were rocket scientists.

"Sure, like last April, on the…" I made a point of pausing as though to recall the exact date. Prowl's optics widened further, showing the edges of his optical lens. "…twentieth. He was meetin' me fer some alone time. It's hard to find time together here, y'know." I had to hold back a guffaw as Prowl looked on the verge of a crash. Thankfully, I was known to run off without lettin' anyone know. Bad habit for an officer, but good fer Prowl's situation.

Prime drew himself up and blinked down at both of us.

Prowl reached out a hand an' placed it on mine. I could feel th' slight tremor of his fingers from that contact. "You know how hard it is for me to get away from work, Prime. I'm always bringing it to my quarters. It distracts me from Jazz when he'd rather have all my attention."

When Prowl tried to pull his hand out of mine, I wrapped my fingers around his an' brought them up to place a kiss on his knuckles. "'s okay Prowlie, I know you're a busy mech."

Prime shifted with distinct discomfort. "Ah, well, certainly that is nothing to hide, Prowl. I'm sorry, I hadn't realized. How long…?"

I couldn't answer that, 'cause I didn't know how far back we were coverin'.

Thankfully, Prowl did know. "Shortly after we woke here." He placed his other hand on top of mine, giving it a grateful squeeze. "We came so close to permanent deactivation I couldn't bear him dying without knowing how I felt."

"Very good then." Primes' optics brightened in relief. "If you need time off, Prowl, I'm sure we can work something out." Prime put a large hand on our shoulders. "You're not…?"

"No."

Ouch, Prowl. Careful there, y'might blow yer cover.

The Datsun glanced at me. "We'll wait until after the war for that. If you could keep it quiet until then, Prime."

"Ah. You don't want to share quarters?"

"That would most certainly give it away, so no, thank you."

Slag.

I'm sure by the time the war ends, we'll have 'fought' and 'broken up.' Well, not if I have anythin' t' say 'bout that. In th' meantime, I'm gonna t' pump this for all it's worth.

Prime seemed satisfied an' walked back to his office.

I leaned towards Prowl an' nuzzled his cheek , fully aware that Red's cameras had caught all of that. "Least now we don't have t'hide it."

The look he shot me could'a frozen fire. "You know I don't like public displays, Jazz." He caressed my cheek with stiff fingers as he pushed me away. "We'll talk about this tonight in my quarters, _love_," he whispered in my receiver.

Y' know I'm there Prowl.

* * *

My shift ended before his, so I went to spruce myself up. Cleaned. Fresh coat of wax. I think I could'a competed with Sunny an' Tracks. Now, if a certain tactician would notice.

I gave him thirty earth minutes to get off and get some energon. Then I chimed for his attention. The door slid opened an' I stepped into his room.

He kept the lights at a medium brightness, enough t' see by, without being too drainin' on th' reserves. He sat at his desk, starin' at a datapad. I had the feelin' he'd been staring at it a while.

He looked up at me, and it was th' most vulnerable I'd ever seen him.

"Jazz…"

"I just wanna know somethin', Prowl."

He shifted, optics dim, dreading. "Depends on what it is."

"Y'ain't betraying us t' any 'Cons, are y'?" Thank the Matrix that Red couldn't get permission ta set up cameras in any quarters. Prime considered that a breach of trust.

Prowl relaxed, air sighing out of his vents. "No."

"Y'ain't Megatron's interface toy, or any of th' other 'Cons?"

The tactician drew himself up. "That's ridiculously illogical."

I grinned and continued forward to lean against his desk. "I'd love ta know what I'm covering you for."

I could hear gears grind as Prowl set his jaw. "I'd rather not."

"Well, I ain't gonna force you. Just let me know th' dates an' times."

The Datsun sat back in surprise. "You're willing to continue this?"

"Well, it ain't gonna be free, if that's what you're thinking."

Suspicion narrowed his eyes. "What did you want from me?"

I leaned across the desk and pressed my lips against his. "You."

I'd never seen him move so fast. Still _didn't_ see it this time. Papers flew, the chair clattered to the floor and datapads slid off the desk. Next I saw, he stood with his wingless shoulder pressed against the wall, refusing to look at me. His doorwing shielded his panting mouth.

I straightened and slid after him, reaching out. "Come on, Prowl. I'll get in serious trouble if Prime finds out. So will you." I slipped an arm around him. "Consider it a part of the cover."

He flinched away from me as I kissed his cheek.

"No," he ground out, and turned his head.

"I could always tell Prime that I made a mistake. It's not too late for me to get out light."

If he had laser eyes, I'm sure I'd have two holes burned through me.

I pulled him closer, kissing his unresponsive mouth. He trembled in my arms and I sought to sooth him with caresses and kisses. I could've jumped him then and there, but I wanted him comfortable. So I drew him to his berth

I explored his body with my fingers and lips. 'Screen had shown me how sensitive doorwing joints were. I wanted Prowl to react, to squirm. I slid my hands along his side and plunged my fingers into both junctions, scraping against wires and hinges.

Finally the black and white body jolted and I captured the cry that exploded from his lips.

"Jazz…"

Ah, to hear him say my name…

"Please!"

I pressed my fingers deeper and his vocalizer crackled with another cry. He arched his back, whimpering, feet sliding against the berth.

He gripped the edge off the berth, refusing to touch me and, when I released his lips, he twisted his head away.

"Jazz, please. Sto-"

I dug my fingers into his wingless side, eliciting a shriek, sure to be heard throughout the Ark.

Someone banged on the door. "Is ev'rythin' all righ' in thar, Prowl?"

Prowl and I looked at one another. I twisted a wire on his left side.

"Fine!" Prowl yelped. "Everything's fne."

"Ya don' sound fine." Concern colored Ironhide's voice.

"You're not helping," the tactician hissed at me, trying to squirm away.

I grinned back. "Can't resist ya." I drew my hand from his winged side and caressed the cables in his neck, playing my lips over them.

"I tripped over something," he shouted at the waiting mech.

"In _your_ quarters?"

"Yes, I had a…hn" His engine finally came to life. "Accident. I had an accident. Made a bit of a mess."

"_You_ did?"

Prowl panted, mouth gaping, optics flickering. It wasn't difficult ta realize that he was close t' overload. "Yes, but I'm fine."

I chortled, tracing the edge of his black accent, enjoying him shaking beneath me.

"A'right. If yer sure." Ironhide's heavy footsteps shuffled away.

I resumed my attentions on his side. "Does it hurt, Prowlie?"

He glared at me, mouth set in a defiant line. With an unbelievable amount of concentration, he cut his engine of. He seemed determined not to enjoy my touch. I'll see about that. I coaxed his engine back over, attacking both door hinges. I'd never heard him squeal before, but I muffled the sound with a passionate kiss. I didn't feel like getting' interrupted again.

"Jazz," he burst, the words catching on his vocalizer, "Sto- Hng!" He bucked as I pressed his hinges.

"Why don't y' act like yer enjoyin it, an' maybe I'll stop." I played my lips over his chestplate, back to the cables on his neck. My fingers scraped their way up to the windshield on his back. His optics flared and he pressed himself away. A restrained cry crackled out of his gaping mouth.

I could feel him shift, and hear the protest of metal as he bent the sides of his berth.

"C'mon, Prowl, I ain't gonna leave y' alone till y' do.," I murmured.

He writhed a few moments and then he attacked me. Metal squealed as he sought to bring my already aroused self into a quick overload.

But I got him first.

He jerked, his systems fritzing. His hand stilled as he reset. I dug my fingers into his injured side, forcing him to react. He whimpered, pitiably, and winced, spent.

"C'mon, Prowlie."

He dragged his hands along sensitive seams. He turned away every time I tried to kiss him. When the world cleared of the static form overload, I found myself on my back.

I could hear air hiss from him as he cycled to cool himself down. He faced the wall, resting on his wingless side. I rolled over and draped an arm over his waist. I hummed happily and nuzzled against his neck.

"Are you satisfied?"

"Hm. Fer now."

"For now," he deadpanned back to me. "Then get _off_ my berth. And _out_ of my quarters."

He turned over and all but threw me out.

I stood outside his door, and a soft glow on my fingers caught my attention. Pink fluid glistened on the fingers I'd dug into Prowl's side. I had ta have been hurtin' him. So, why hadn't he said anythin'?

* * *

"I hope you're not deluding yourself that I'll fall aft over cortex for you."

I paused in tryin' t' coax another charge outta him. "Might just take some time. I can wait."

Imagine my surprise when he actually laughed and kicked me out.

I still didn't know what he was hidin' from everyone. A cursory exam of th' records didn't show nothin'. An' our relationship, such as it was, didn't seem ta be goin' nowhere. He asked that I refrain from cuddling up t' him, an' calling him endearing names 'round th' others. I respected that, hopin' t' earn some brownie points on his board. Still I knew he wasn't happy with th' arrangement, but I couldn't give him up so soon.

I lay on my berth, tuned into my internal radio. I was watchin' tv, an' wasn't payin' attention t' the door. I still don't know how I missed it openin'. All I knew was that Prowl was suddenly standing by my berth, staring down at me as though he were even now weighing his decision. He must'a used his security override. Sneaky slagger.

I don' know if my open-armed invitation helped make up his mind or not. He climbed up with me, which is more than he'd ever done. His purring engine belied his dispassionate face. I only managed t' keep my hands t' myself for a little bit, but he was way too tempting. I ran my hands up the bottom of his doorwings. He buried his face in my neck junction, moaning and clutching. It wasn't all that hard, since his engine already thrummed readily, t' convince him ta plug in. Th' heady, double feeling of our hands on one another sent us both into simultaneous overload.

I wondered if this had anything to do with Wheeljack's lab blowin' up. If so, I might have t' see that it happens more often.

All th' ground I thought I'd gained, I realized had never been there when Prowl walked out, without a word, bowed with shame. I doubt th' usually observant tactician even noticed Sunstreaker passing by, though the golden warrior certainly noticed him. He even reset himself in a double take. A disturbing frown crossed his handsome face as he locked optics with me before the door closed.

By this time, th' rumors about 'Prowl and Jazz' were flyin'. I found both of us the subjects of curious looks and whispered conversations. But I kept my promise t' him and never confirmed th' gossip. Prowl had been continuing his disappearance acts. I tried t' follow him once, only t' have Sunstreaker stop me with an intriguing question. How he found me, I don't know. I'm no Mirage, but I can usually avoid bein' noticed when I want to.

* * *

The room was lit as it always was, not too dim, nor too bright. Prowl sat at his desk, sorting through datapads. He didn't look at me, even after his doors closed.

"Not right now, Jazz. I have a lot of work to do."

I slunk over to his side. "I could always _talk_ to _Optimus _about your _work._"

He paused and glanced at me. Finally with a resigned sigh he stood an' let me drag him to the berth.

As always he turned away from me afterward. I traced my finger down his arm, still trying to process the fact that, in essence, he was mine. Briefly I wondered if I could talk him into spark bonding. I could just 'test the waters,' as th' humans say.

"Hey, sparkles," he went rigid as I leaned into whisper into his receiver, "what would y' say t'-"

He flipped over, his doorwing whapping me in my face. I found myself on th' floor, tryin' t' calibrate my visor. His feet clanged on the floor as he shoved himself off th' berth. He grabbed my arm and hauled me off my aft.

"_Don't_ call me that," he snarled in a voice normally reserved for Decepticons.

"Why?" I asked, dumbfounded. Not like anyone was around t' hear.

"I… _hate_ that name."

He shoved me outta his room and the door hissed between us. I frowned at the orange panel. My sensors tingled and I whipped about to face a golden shoulder.

Sunstreaker loomed over me. I opened my mouth t' apologize when I noticed the expression on Sunny's face. Th' same expression I see out on th' battlefield. Cold, an' full of barely contained fury. He moved, faster than me, an' lifted me off my feet by my throat. I struggled against him uselessly. I reached for my gun, but he grabbed my arm, bending metal with his grip.

He shoved my back into th' wall, apparently not caring that Red's camera's were watchin' us. "So, it's true?"

I decided ta play dumb. "What?"

He tightened his grip. "You and Prowl? Is it true?"

Aw slag. I chose t' just bite th' bullet. No use lyin' now. "Yeah, Sunny. It's true."

He leaned closer t' me, his container of fury cracking at th' edges. "How long?"

Why did Sunny seem so mad? "We started not too long after we woke," I replied with the story Prowl told Prime. "What, nine earth years ago?"

"Nine years?" Despite his calm words, his grip squeezed lines in my neck, cuttin' my power t' my cortex

Then he dropped me, though hi s face thundered with rage, an' he slid a sneering glance toward Prowl's door. His steel blue optics turned back to me, waiting.

Confused, I retreated t' my quarters. Suspicion niggled its way through th' confusion, an' I sat down at my desk an' hacked into secure files. I pulled up th' list Optimus had shoved at Prowl. Then I pulled up duty logs from our time on Earth.

I narrowed th' parameters t' find correlations between Sunstreaker's off time and Prowl's disappearin' acts. It didn't make sense t' me. First of all Sunny would have beat the circuits outta me if he were interfacing with Prowl. Secondly, Sunny had someone, an' was considerably loyal t' that one. Sure he had his flings, but they were just that, flings. He couldn't care less if they interfaced with anyone else. As if it mocked me, the duty roster confirmed that Prowl and Sunstreaker's times didn't match.

I keyed in a change of parameters, replacing Sunstreaker's name with Sideswipe's.

It matched.

Every single time.

I sat there stunned. Prowl an' Sideswipe? I couldn't spark my processor t' those two spending more time than necessary in each other's company.

What a perfect cover-up.

I delved deeper, back t' when we were on Cybertron, as far back as the memory banks went uncorrupted.

Few, very few, were th' times that Prowl's off time didn't coincide with Sideswipe's.

How long have we not noticed them? How long…

Oh slagging Primus.

Sunstreaker _knew._


	7. Off Center

Off Center

Time: A few days after Jazz first blackmails Prowl.

Author's Notes: You might find some plot, if you're looking for it. I know it looks weird in the center, but I can't seem to get it to go to the left. Stupid thing.

* * *

Sideswipe shoved branches out of his way. He carried a sniping rifle, slung carelessly across his shoulder. The secluded little area he stepped into held a series of targets of varying sizes, set at different distances. A single black and white mech stood at the line marked in the scuffed ground. He held a rifle up to his optics, the butt cushioned against his shoulder tire. He fired off a round of bursts at one set, shifted and fired another burst at the next set.

A grin grew on the red warrior's face. He inched forward, as quietly as vorns of playing pranks had taught him. He reached out his hands, and slid his fingers into a tight grip on the door panels. He yanked the mech off his feet and against his chest. Sideswipe kissed down Prowl's helm, running his fingers over the patrol car's door wings.

Surprised, Prowl jerked away and turned. Sideswipe's grin faded as his lover seemed to shrink from him. Relief tumbled from Prowl's lips in the form of the Lamborghini's name.

"Expecting someone else, sparkles?" The grin returned.

The tactician considered Sideswipe without replying, his normal, guarded look in place. "No." Prowl turned and set the rifle against his shoulder.

Sideswipe stepped forward and nuzzled against Prowl's helm. "You didn't think I'd refuse this invitation did you? Even though you never said anything to me, I'm sure you knew Sunny would. Should we worry about flyers?" Sideswipe glanced skyward, pulling his hands away self-consciously.

"Skyfire and Slingshot are still in for repairs." Prowl opened fire on the targets again. "The Aerialbots and Powerglide are out on patrol until this evening. Blades is assisting with rescue efforts in Central City."

"And with Sunny on the monitors, he'll conveniently 'forget' to watch over here."

"You should know." Recalibrate the rifle, fire at the first target. "He's your brother."

"And you're mad, because…?"

Prowl paused, his doorwings shifting as he turned to glance at the twin. "What makes you think I'm mad?"

Sideswipe stepped up beside Prowl and settled the sniping rifle into shooting position. "Because, you only come out here when you're fragged about something." He selected his targets and fired. He made short work of the row. Sideswipe glanced at the tactician. "This wouldn't have anything to do with those broken fuel lines Ratchet was yelling at you about, would it?" The rifle lowered as Sideswipe's attention shifted to the tactician.

Prowl didn't answer Sideswipe for several klicks. "You've been in the med bay for several days." As if the warrior didn't know that. "I've been worried about you. It's… frustrating not being able to show that."

Sideswipe tilted his head. He laid the rifle on the ground and stepped closer to Prowl. "So how much frustration have you built up, considering how often Sunny and I get trashed."

The blue optics narrowed, never turned to the red twin. "Quite a bit."

Sideswipe forced Prowl to turn to him. He stared into the tactician's optics until Prowl averted his gaze.

"I thought we were over this, Prowl." He pulled the Datsun closer, stimulating his sensory net with gentle caresses. A moan rumbled through Prowl's frame as he leaned into the black hands. Sideswipe rested his helmet against his lover's. "Your duties stress you enough without self-recrimination." He lifted the tactician's chin and captured Prowl's lips in a passionate kiss. "Primus, I want you."

Prowl pulled away, turning around, and snapped the rifle up. Sideswipe dropped his hands with a growl of frustration. "Prowl…"

"I have never been 'over it,' Sideswipe. Never."

Sideswipe rubbed at his audio horns. "I feel like I'm missing something, Prowl. What's bothering you?"

Prowl squeezed the trigger and struck each target dead center. "Optimus," he finally offered.

Sideswipe repeated the name in confusion. He'd never heard the second-in-command say their commander's name with such loathing. "What about Prime?"

Prowl's doorwings drew back. "He asked me where I've been going."

"Aw, slag." Sideswipe sagged. He looked in the direction of the Ark, then back at the tactician.

Prowl changed the rifle's setting, his fingers pressing harder than they needed to.

The red twin drew down his brow ridges. "You figured something out though, right? Prime would have raked us both over the smelting pits otherwise."

Prowl subspaced the rifle and pulled out a different one. "Yes, Sideswipe," weariness dragged over his voice, "I thought of something."

"Anything I should know?" Sideswipe tried to turn the black and white mech to face him, but Prowl resisted.

"No."

The warrior snarled and smacked Prowl's gun down. "Primus scrape it Prowl, _talk to me_. We're in this together. _Remembe_r" Prowl sighed and turned his full attention to Sideswipe. "_Thank_ you. Now what's the cover?" Sideswipe couldn't believe his lover was being so evasive.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"What?" It took all of the Lamborghini's self-control not to pulverize the Datsun.

"Please, just trust me, Sides."

"Fine, but _only_ if you _promise_ that you _will_ tell me before _too_ long."

"I will." They stared at each other until Prowl shifted. "Can I finish this set?"

Sideswipe looked askance. "Yeah, sure. Nice to know I'm such a distraction."

The tactician pulled the rifle up and sighted along its barrel. "You should fire a few more rounds as well."

Sideswipe picked his gun off the ground, grinning. All suspicions lifted at Prowl's promise. They'd had many arguments in their millennia together, some very heated. Back on Cybertron, there were times where they didn't speak for stellar cycles until they cooled their emotion chips. They had too little time together as it was to waste it on harsh words. Trust Prowl to think logically rather than emotionally. Still, Sideswipe had never had to worry about his lover lying to him, and that knowledge put him at ease as he worked through his set.

Fire. Recalibrate. Fire. Mind-numbingly _boring_. How did Mirage and Bluestreak stand this job. He wasn't a bad shot: his rocket launcher's targeting systems let him pinpoint targets with devastating accuracy, going so far as displaying the approximate blast radius in his optical HUD.

Today he found the black and white mech beside him too distracting. His shots strayed far off center, some missing the target completely. By all appearances Prowl was oblivious to Sideswipe's wanderings. When he kept missing the targets, because he was paying too much attention to the Datsun, he stopped trying.

Prowl remained intent on the targets, lowering the gun only to change the settings. Sideswipe frowned at his lover. He slid up behind Prowl, slipping an arm around the black waist.

"Don't you think you've done enough," he whispered into the tactician's audio receiver.

"If I did, don't you think I would have stopped."

Sideswipe rested his chin on one of Prowl's doorwings. He reached up and began suggestively spinning Prowl's tire back and forth. "Can't I distract you?" he whined playfully.

The tactician didn't even look at the warrior, though his doorwing shrugged. "I don't know. Can you?"

Sideswipe straightened. A challenge? He grinned down at the mech who was pointedly ignoring him. Prowl felt like playing? What a rare occurrence.

First he ghosted his black fingers along the tactician's back, seeking sensitive areas along the top of his car form. He drew whorls along Prowl's windshield, bending to trace his lips carefully along the glass. He slipped his fingers underneath the shell, fondling the roof light on and off. The interior light reflected off the pair of tempting doors sticking out of Prowl's side. Sideswipe turned his attention on Prowl's shoulder tires, ignoring those perfect, shining panels. He traced the tread on first one, than the other tire, reaching around Prowl's doorwings.

Prowl continued his motions, each shot carefully placed. He moved his doorwings out of Sideswipe's way, the only concession he gave the warrior's attentions.

Sideswipe draped an arm over Prowl's shoulder, to reach the tire on the other side. He nibbled at the plain tire rims and moved to attend the tactician's silver neck.

"You're getting in my way," Prowl said in his no-nonsense voice. The light shining on his doorwings flicked off.

"So, it's working." The cheeky twin grinned at the tactician.

Prowl huffed. "No, you're just getting in my way." His optics flashed in a playful wink. "Pest." He pushed Sideswipe out of the way and resumed firing.

_Slag you Prowl, I'm going to win this._

Black fingers squealed their way up to grip the edges of the black and white door panels. He plucked at the door handles, enjoying the sound of them slamming back into place. Prowl's doorwings twitched. The Lamborghini rubbed the panel backs, the leather padding soft on his hands.

"Sideswipe…" The muzzle of Prowl's gun wavered.

The red twin slid his hands down into the joints on Prowl's side. "What?"

Though Prowl squeezed the trigger, Sideswipe knew his cortex wasn't on the target as the shot hit the ground a few yards to the left. "That's cheating."

"So?" Sideswipe stroked the hinges, fingering wires. "It works."

Prowl glanced over his shoulder, lowering the gun with a mock-resigned sigh. "Fine. You win." The rifle vanished into a subspace pocket.

Sideswipe leaned closer to kiss Prowl's lips, his fingers curling over the tactician's neck. His voice rumbled with the sound of his engine. "Good it's about time."

They parted long enough for Prowl to turn without hitting Sideswipe with his doorwings. Then they pressed against one another, metal squealing together in a rapturous orchestra. Engines purred in anticipation. Sideswipe dragged his hands over the black and white body, panting as Prowl pried at sensitive seams. Percussive bangs rang in his audios as metal bent under the tactician's careful fingers.

Sideswipe moaned, scraping up and down Prowl's waist, pulling along hypersensitive ridges that tracked balance and pressure. He grabbed Prowl's shoulder tires, squeezing the soft rubber. He pushed Prowl toward the trees, further out of sight of the Ark.

Prowl went along, unresisting, and picked right back up where he left off when Sideswipe finally stopped. He briefly thought of reminding the tactician that they were still close to the Ark, but that thought died as Prowl wrapped his fingers around the latch that held his launcher in place.

The two lovers wrapped each other up, caressing and kissing. They stood, precariously balanced, legs entangled. Fingers scraped and screeched in desperation.

Sideswipe reached up, splaying his hands against the police car's doorwings. He ranged his fingers down to the vulnerable hinges, digging deeper, into wire and tubing.

Prowl whined, and his legs gave out, toppling them both over.

Sideswipe yelped, yanking his hands away and shaking his fingers. "Primus slaggit! Ow!" He flexed his dented digits, wondering how he could explain this to Ratchet. Somehow saying that he jammed them in Prowl's doors didn't seem like a good idea.

White fingers grabbed Sideswipe's hands and Prowl examined the injured fingers with gentle strokes. "Sorry."

"I know they're sensitive, but Primus-ow! Watch it." Sideswipe winced and took his hands back, rubbing along his joints.

Prowl scooted out from under Sideswipe, an uneasy expression on his face.

Sideswipe regarded the tactician with a frown. "Something wrong?"

The black and white mech shrugged, turning to glance toward the Ark. "I guess they're still a little sore from repairs."

"Should Ratchet look at them, and make sure everything's okay?" Sideswipe looked his fingers over, as though he expected them to be covered with energon.

"No… it's fine. Just leave them alone." Prowl kissed the red twin, effectively shutting him up.

The Datsun pushed Sideswipe down, straddling the warrior's hips. He leaned down, tracing a finger along the edges of Sideswipe's pop up headlights. "This way I won't land on your fingers, again."

Sideswipe chuckled, gyrating his hips in a distinctly human fashion. Just to irritate Prowl. The Datsun leaned forward, one finger on Sideswipe's chassis. "Stop that."

The red twin pulled Prowl down for a kiss. "Or else what, Prowl?" he murmured, grinning.

"Or else," Prowl paused and tilted his head in thought, "I'll restrict you from watching any television for a month."

Sideswipe chuckled and nuzzled Prowl's cheek. His hands roamed the black and white body, pausing to attend responsive areas. "How will you manage that? My quarters have a monitor, and so does the rec room."

The tactician's lips pressed against Sideswipe's chest, fingers digging into abdominal plating. "Mine doesn't."

"Aw, but Sunny won't let me sleep over at anyone else's quarters. He needs me there or he can't recharge."

"You're incorrigible, Sides." Prowl's engine revved. He caressed Sideswipe's horns, sending a pleasurable feedback into his receptors.

Sideswipe leaned his head back into the white hands, inviting them to stroke his helmet. He kissed the black arms, panting with desire. His hands traveled up to fondle Prowl's doorwings and finger the joints.

Prowl grabbed Sideswipe's wrists and shoved his hands to the ground. "If you do that again, I'm going to slap handcuffs on you."

Sideswipe couldn't help the grin that broke across his face. "Gonna chain me to the trees, too?"

"Why do I even bother?"

Sideswipe wanted more than caresses and sensory stimulation. He longed for the exchange that interfacing allowed: knowing just what his caresses were doing to the black and white mech, reliving memories. But they couldn't afford to let their guard down that much, it would be too easy for someone to walk up and catch them. Autobot or Decepticon, it would be very bad for them.

Systems overloaded, leaving them both limp. Sideswipe shook the static out of his vision, and ran a finger down Prowl's cheek. The tactician jumped, jerking away. Sideswipe's brow furrowed until Prowl settled himself back down. The red twin cradled an arm around the Datsun and wondered what had his lover so disturbed.

* * *

Author's Notes II: They deserved this after last chapter, or at least Prowl did. Next chapter will begin The Reckoning(as dubbed by VAWitch XD)

* * *


	8. Off to the Side: Sunstreaker

Off to the Side: Sunstreaker

* * *

I see it in his optics on you. In the way his fingers linger on your shoulder. I see it in your optics on him, your fingers brushing his leg. I hear it in the lilt in your voice as you sing his name.

I know the truth. Deny it to your friends as they joke and tease you about your attempts at attention. You can't hide it from me. I know you too well. And you know what?

I hate him for it.

You have your pick of any member of this unit and you choose the _one_ mech that could cost us everything. Prime takes fraternizing seriously. He could throw you in the brig, or worse strip you of rank and the Autobot insignia. Where would that leave me? I'll go crazy if I can't beat some cons to slag and I'm not insane enough to do it without backup.

Primus, Sideswipe, why? Why? Why Prowl? Why not Bluestreak? Warpath? Tracks? Slaggit even smeltin' little Gears would have been preferable. None of _them_ would have cost us everything.

Those thoughts carried me into the control center. I'm not going to lose Sideswipe to you!

It felt good to see that look of shock cross the tactician's face. Not even when Smokescreen scratched my paint did I deter from my goal.

"Don't act stupid!"

I felt justified, seeing Prowl reel from my blows, from my words. For that I could ignore Ironhide's rough handling.

"What are you talking about?" You can't fool me with that innocent act. I've seen the signs.

"You know what I mean."

I stood in the brig, distracting myself from my anger by grumbling about my paint job. I wasn't really surprised when 5 megacycles later, Ironhide dragged me to Prowl's office.

"Thank you, Ironhide. I'll take it from here."

I leveled a glare at my escort and jerked my shoulder out of the Security Director's grasp. He left, grumbling through his dental plates.

Prowl watched me for a few klicks in silence, his hands clasped on his desk. I knew that look on his face. The contemplative 'what am I going to do with this idiot to make his listen' look. His doorwings stood rigid behind him. I glared defiantly back. Slag to Primus if I was going to say something first.

Prowl stood, his fingers grazing the console on his desk. He came around his desk, hands tucked behind his back. He walked up to me and I took a step back as he stood chest to chest to me. Something cold, calculating and _dangerous_ lay within those azure optics.

"I thought you might like to see the remnants of your handiwork."

I glared down at Prowl. He didn't need to stand so close, I could've seen them just fine from where I stood.

"As you may imagine, Prime and Ironhide are both expecting me to charge you with assault."

Of course.

"However, there are extenuating circumstances that they are not aware of. I will have to give you some kind punishment, for you did strike an officer. How severe will depend on why you saw fit to put dents in my face plate." Prowl backed away, his optics glinting.

I glared at Prowl. If I answered, I'd get Sideswipe in trouble.

"We need to talk, Sunstreaker, and we need to be quick. It won't be long before the camera comes back online."

I tried to wrap my cortex around that. _Prowl_ had taken out the camera in his office.

"You know perfectly well _why_ I did that." I advanced and Prowl dodged my reaching hands. "Why don't you give me a reason not to do it again?" Slag, the cameras were off, so it didn't matter what we said. "Do you realize how much trouble Sideswipe will be in if you get caught?"

The Enforcer's speed surprised me. He swept me around, both of us grunting as we hit the floor. "You don't think I realize the consequences of our actions," he hissed in my audio horn. "You think that _I_ don't _know_? I have _seen_ Prime abandon mechs for this, stripped of weapons and out in the wastelands."

I shoved myself up with my superior strength and glared at Prowl. "Then why? Why are you putting Sideswipe in danger? Why not one of the other officers? Ultra Magnus? Ratchet? Slag, why not Kup for Primus' sake? You're both boorish enough!"

"It's not just my decision, but Sides' as well. Does your brother's happiness mean nothing to you?"

I threw a fist at the black and white Enforcer. "Of course it does! But how can he be happy constantly hiding how he feels from everyone."

He lightly sidestepped my swing. "I don't suppose you've talked to Sideswipe about that?" Frag Prowl and that cool collected voice of his. "Have you _asked_ him how he feels about this?"

I straighten to glare down at the infuriating little Enforcer. "What could you possible like about him? You're as alike as-"

"Hound and Mirage?"

My optics narrowed. "I was going to say me and Tracks."

He started chuckling. I had never heard him chuckle before. It was kinda… creepy. So was the smile.

"That's actually appropriate." His optics dimmed slightly. "We're more alike than you might imagine."

"You _are_?"

His stern façade dropped a micron, and the light in his optics softened. "Yes."

I was too shocked to be offended that he dared imply I was anything like Tracks. Still, there was affection, real affection on his face. Dare I might say it, but the slagger might truly _love_ my brother.

Could it be that Sideswipe might actually feel the same?

"I'll talk to Sideswipe," I conceded, "_but_ if you betray him, Prowl, I promise you that you will suffer worse than anything he'll go through."

Prowl's optics hardened. "If that were to happen, then there's nothing you can do that will be worse than knowing that I hurt him." He glanced toward the camera. "Will we be able to count on your help?" He murmured.

"To keep Sides out of trouble, yeah."

He nodded and headed for his desk. Then he began to lay into me about striking him, but without his usual vehemence. Even though he held his doorwings rigid, his appreciation shone in his optics.

* * *

Prowl let me off relatively easy, considering. Sideswipe came into our quarters and strode right up to me.

"And?"

I couldn't help myself. "And?"

He tilted his head, brow ridge lifting. "_And?_"

I returned the tilt, narrowing my optics. "_Prowl?"_

He shrugged, an embarrassed smirk on his face. "Prowl."

I threw my hands into the air. "Why?"

He shrugged again, his smile turning helpless. "'Cause."

I frowned and considered him. Finally I shook my head. "Fine."

He rested his hand on my shoulder and his optics softened. "Thanks."

"Sure." Just don't get all squishy on me, bro.

* * *

I'd heard the rumors of course: Jazz and Prowl, Prowl and Jazz. I had my suspicions, but I kept them to myself. I wanted nothing more than to beat the rumor out of nosy gossipbots. Sideswipe laughed it off that Jazz would only be so lucky.

Then I saw Prowl stagger out of Jazz's quarters. He was so worn out that he didn't even notice me. My circuits burned with the desire to strike him. Sideswipe had gone out to meet the slagger earlier that evening, and, even though he never said it, I knew he'd been refused. But the fragging Datsun could go to _Jazz_ and give _Jazz_ what he wouldn't give _my_ _brother_? I glared at Jazz as the door closed then turned to watch Prowl enter his quarters.

I didn't say anything to Sideswipe, I wanted to make sure of it. Prowl could have stopped by Jazz's quarters for something duty related before recharge. Not likely, but possible.

I watched and waited.

I made every excuse I could think of to linger around the officer's quarters until I saw Jazz step into the hall. Neither he nor the fragging Datsun noticed me, so I caught him and questioned him.

Nine years? _Nine slagging years_!

I made sure Jazz went into his own quarters before I left the hall, fists clenched. I headed for the washracks to clean the filth that had accumulated on me from hanging around that fragger's door. It didn't help my mood any. Even applying wax to my paint didn't calm me down.

While there I plotted.

Sides wouldn't be back until late into the morning. He and that piece of scrap had several ways of arranging a meeting. A few of them used me.

It was too easy. Prowl readily accepted the invitation.

* * *

"Sunstreaker?" I could see the surprise in his fragged impassive face. "Where's Sideswipe?"

I didn't say anything. I let my fist do the talking. His mandible cracked under my blow. He staggered backward in a grim parody of the day I found he was shagging Sideswipe. But there was no Ironhide, no Smokescreen, no _Jazz_ to stop me this time. He caught my wrist, warding off the next blow.

"_Sunstreaker?_"

Well, I can't have you calling for slagging help, now can I? I ripped out his comm link. I knew that he realized I meant business then, and he fought back with all his might. It wasn't enough against _my_ strength. His gun crumpled easily in my grip and dropped to the ground.

I'm sure he didn't think so, but I _was_ careful. I didn't want the sorry slagsucker to _die_ before Sideswipe had a chance at him. He should have known better than to frag with _my_ brother, to douse _my_ brother's spark. Any slight to him, was an insult to me. And this afthead had just ripped out Sideswipe's emotion circuits, leaving only cold wires in their place. I'll be smelted before I let that fragging stand.

I didn't want to talk to the slagger, despite his repeated attempts to get a word in edgewise. It wasn't _my_ place to say anything to him, just beat the circuits out of him. I'll let Sideswipe do the talking, if he's so inclined. Who knows, maybe he won't waste words on this lying piece of scrap. Sometimes my brother has _some_ sense.

The fragger kept trying to get me to stop. A quick blow to his throat silenced his vocalizer, shutting him up. I shredded the doorwings my brother so loved, and I ripped off the proud red chevron he admired. That seemed to take the fight out of Sides' beloved tactician.

He sagged to the ground, air wheezing out of his vents, systems whirring with pain. Glass tumbled out of one of his optics, joining the debris that littered the ground. I kicked him a few times until the light in his optics dimmed.

I'm not completely sparkless, I put out a distress beacon for him and then I transformed and threw dirt on him as I rolled back to base.

"_Sideswipe, meet me at the washracks."_

I took a wide route, to avoid the Autobots answering the distress signal. I don't give a fragged Seeker Trine about getting thrown in the brig. I expected it. Slag, I expected Prowl to see to it himself, whenever he could stand again, that is. But I _had_ to talk to Sides first!

I ignored the strange looks I received for coming back looking less than my perfect self: energon splatters on my roof and hood, body dented and scratched. I transformed when I reached the washracks and stepped under a sensor activated shower-head.

In one of my hands I held the only trophy I had taken from my enemy. I held a cloth in the other, wiping away the spatter and paint marks.

"I wonder who the poor slagger is that's in trouble. Ha! Ratchet's going to have a field day with his aft!" I looked up when I heard Sideswipe enter, so I didn't miss the grin that faded from his face. "Primus, bro. What happened?"

"Don't worry, I saved Jazz for you."

"What? What are you talking about?" His gaze tracked down to my hand, as though he could read my processor. His optics bleached to white and widened. He reeled away from me, horror-stricken. It sent another surge of hatred toward the slagging Datsun to see that kind of pain on my brother's face.

I tossed my trophy, and he caught it in pure reflex. He stared down at the twisted red metal in his hand before he looked back up at me. "Sunny… _what did you do?_"

* * *

Author's Notes: Here's hoping the next chapter ends with this resolved. --;; I miscalculated the number of chapters I had left to do. _Now_ it's three chapters. ;; 


	9. Off Road

Off Road

Author's Notes: I realized that for a Transformers fanfic I hadn't done much with their alt modes. This is to rectify that situation.

* * *

Prowl waited in the designated area. Trees sheltered him from the road, and a small brook bubbled happily. He worried that the Lamborghini hadn't shown up yet. He was several breems late. He calculated the likelihood of Sideswipe running into a Decepticon-related problem to be a mere 15.723 percent. However, this being Sideswipe, it could just as well be a run-in with the local authorities. 

The insistent call of a familiar horn pulled Prowl from the peaceful scenery. A red sports car waited on the side of the road, Autobot insignia prominent on its roof. As soon as Prowl stepped out of the trees, the car turned its wheels and slowly rolled onto the road.

"_Sideswipe?_"

The warrior didn't reply, but revved his engine expectantly.

Uncertain as to what Sideswipe was planning, Prowl stepped onto the tar and transformed, the pavement warm beneath his tires. The Lamborghini revved his engine again, and took off, tooting horn beckoning the Datsun to follow. The tactician rumbled a complaint, but followed the other sports car.

They traveled a few miles farther from their meeting place, switching solid pavement for packed dirt. The Datsun winced as rocks and stiff grass scraped at his undercarriage. _Where on th__is__ planet is Sideswipe taking me?_ He uselessly wondered.

He balked when he realized they were picking up speed toward a small gathering of humans. He braked and stopped, sliding a little on the dirt. The humans didn't bother him. It was being seen somewhere he shouldn't be, with someone he shouldn't be with. It was the thought of _Prime_ finding out that made him hiss in anger at the Lamborghini.

"_Sideswipe, what are you doing?_"

The red Lamborghini swung back around, coming to a purring stop in front of the police car. The sloping hood dipped down plaintively. The low bumper glided along Prowl's until it stopped by his tire. The precise control of the warrior didn't even scratch the black paint.

A golden silhouette separated itself from the crowd. A dust cloud traced the vehicle's trail back. Sunstreaker swept around Prowl, and nudged the second-in-command's rear bumper, again gently enough to not leave a mark.

The brothers' message was clear. They were all but begging him to go ahead. Prowl sighed with a whir of his fan. Rocks crunched under his tires as he eased away from the red Lamborghini. Sideswipe made a quick turn and the two Lamborghinis pressed against Prowl's side in appreciation.

The Datsun wondered at Sideswipe's unusual silence. Normally the mischief-maker would be talking, if for no other reason than to taunt his brother.

The twins abruptly switched on their radios, blaring music from their speakers.

"Bad boys, bad boys. Whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?"

He recognized the song. The delinquent members of the crew enjoyed watching the foolish situations the humans got themselves into. The program made Prowl's logic circuits ache.

Prowl followed their silence and squeaked his belt, acknowledging their request. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe pulled away from Prowl, gaining speed as they passed the crowd. The tactician realized they pulled onto a dirt track of some kind that ran a mile and a quarter in diameter. He noticed the humans pulled out binoculars and other viewing apparatus.

With a thought, his lights flickered to life and his siren wailed. He chased the twins, sliding through the dirt as they executed inhumanly sharp turns. His day to day stress as second-in-command faded with the thrill of perfectly performed maneuvers. He recognized the Lamborghinis' tactics as ones they used in battle against mechs not used to fighting two singular minds.

Brake lights flashed before him and wheels slid in an arc before coming to a complete halt, perpendicular to the oncoming police car. They sat just far enough apart to allow him to slide in, swinging his tail about so that he faced the same direction.

Powerful engines roared to the cheering of the human crowd and the sports cars tore at the dirt, a precise line that wended its way through the arena like a snake. The exhilaration of working with Sideswipe sent excited surges through Prowl's processor. Hs duties on the battlefield often drew him away from the front lines. He rarely had the chance to witness, much less work with his lover.

The two Lamborghinis pulled alongside the Datsun. Prowl's circuits tingled where Sideswipe pressed against him. While Sunstreaker merely guided, Sideswipe teased. Add just enough pressure and mark paint; turn his wheel just so, that it hummed against Prowl's frame. The Lamborghini was excited. Prowl vibrated in response to Sideswipe's eagerness, letting his lover know his own anticipation.

They finished their dance with a series of spectacularly timed spins. The three cars turned three hundred and sixty degrees, over and over. Calculated and controlled the brothers peeled away from the black and white car, leaving the Datsun spinning in place.

He fishtailed his way to where the twins waited, taking the empty gap between them, facing the spectators.

Sideswipe nudged Prowl and fine-tuned engines roared as the set off for the waiting humans. Prowl followed at a slight distance, watching the showoffs bask in the attention. A small group broke away and approached the Datsun. Alcohol clung to them like the purple clouds they dragged with them. The females crooned and pated the sleek white paint, laughing at one thing or another.

"I never thought they'd actually do it. But they did!" one of the males exclaimed.

Prowl didn't have time to ponder those words as Sideswipe pulled up and tooted his horn. He jostled his suspension and moved away from his clinging fans.

Prowl shook off admiring hands and once again followed the Lamborghini. Rather than head for their original meeting place, Sideswipe led him to one of their other hidden spots.

The sound of latches unclasping gave Prowl the only warning of the warrior's intent. He had barely staggered out of transforming before Sideswipe plowed into him.

They rolled on the ground, Prowl yelling senseless things at his excited lover. They tussled until the red twin forced Prowl onto his back, holding his wrists down. Sideswipe caught Prowl's lips in a passionate kiss, engine still roaring. Blue optics burned with the loving words that rolled from the warrior's vocalizer.

Sideswipe resonated with the workings of his engine, spreading pleasure through the tactician's frame wherever they touched. "Primus, Prowl, I'm so hot for you right now."

Prowl's own engine rumbled eagerly, and he panted as he writhed under the red frame. "Let me touch you," he moaned, his vocalizer crackling.

The red twin smirked and nipped at Prowl's cheek guard. "If you touch me, I swear I'll go offline." Metal screeched as they moved against one another: Prowl trying to free his wrists, Sideswipe trying to hold him down. Optics flared, both excited by the small struggle for control. Sideswipe froze, his shutdown audible with a crackle of circuits. His grip on Prowl's hands loosened and the tactician took advantage of Sideswipe's reset to roll the Lamborghini over and get revenge on the red twin. It wasn't too long until he, too, overloaded.

"What was that all about, anyway?" Prowl asked as they snuggled against one another, fingertips brushing light caresses along their frames.

"They didn't think we'd be able to get a cop car out there. Don't worry; they have no idea who you are. We told them you were a Decepticon prisoner."

Prowl paused, his fingers on the warrior's rocket pack. "A what?"

"Well, they won't ever connect you with the Autobots at least." Sideswipe stroked a hand up a black and white doorwing. "Besides, I've always wanted to drive with you like that." His vocalizer dropped a few octaves, the words rumbling through both of them. "Just thinking about it makes me rev." He rolled to his back, unfocused gaze on the sky above.

Prowl chuckled, smile on his face and he moved to draw his lover's attention back to where it belonged.

* * *

Author's post Note: This isn't counting toward the three chapters I said would end this. -grin- -sweatdrop-

* * *


	10. Torqued Off

Torqued Off

* * *

Sideswipe curled his fingers around the twisted red chevron with an unbecoming tenderness. He glared at his brother, waiting for an answer. 

Sunstreaker paused, his head tilting ever-so-slightly toward the camera. Sideswipe ground his dental plates, but followed the golden Lamborghini out. As soon as the door to their quarters closed, the red Lamborghini crossed his arms expectantly.

Sunstreaker didn't hesitate. His vocalizer crackled with barely suppressed rage, and he gestured in short, jabbing motions. "That lying fragger is 'facing with Jazz behind your back, bro! He's been doing it for _nine slagging years_!"

Sideswipe's optics narrowed skeptically.

"I'm serious! Jazz said as much himself; I've _seen_ him come out of Jazz's quarters still reeling from overload."

Sideswipe shook his head, tensing, fist clenched around the half-a-chevron in his fingers. "You hurt Prowl?" Sunstreaker nodded. "On Jazz's word?" Again a nod, this time with less certainty and a little more apprehension.

Sideswipe roared and lunged for his twin. They fell to the ground, returning blow for blow. Evenly matched, they dead-locked with their arms tangled, pressing against each other, mouths set in snarls. Sunstreaker yelled at Sideswipe for being a stupid, blind drone to have missed the signs.

"What signs?" A black fist aimed for a punch. It was all Sunstreaker needed to leverage a powerful kick, knocking the red mech off. Sideswipe threw himself at his brother, grappling him back under his pounding fists. "You wouldn't be talking about signs like when you thought he and Magnus were spending too much time together, would you? Or him and Ironhide? Or fragging _Prime_?"

Sunstreaker caught Sideswipe's wrists and they locked in a near motionless wrestling match, straining to break the other's hold.

"It's no slagging wonder Springer took every mission thrown at him. You're so slotting _jealous_ and possessive!"

That was the final hinge for the golden warrior. Sunstreaker suddenly switched from defensive to offensive, shoving Sideswipe off again. They threw each other against furniture and into the door, until it collapsed under their assault. Their fight carried into the hallway and amidst a circle of feet.

They were pulled apart and thrown against the wall, hands wrenched behind their backs and manacled.

They broke their glare from each other to direct it at the small attachment of armed Autobots, Ironhide at the lead.

"We were just comin' fer Sunstreaker," he drawled, palpable ire on his face and in his voice. "Looks like you can join him, too, Sides."

Sideswipe's optics narrowed and he snarled at the security officer. "Don't call me that."

"Then don't brawl in the hall."

They dragged the twins to their nearly personalized cells.

"Why'd ya do it, Sunstreaker?" Ironhide suddenly asked, pausing in front of the golden warrior's glowing bars.

Sideswipe couldn't see his brother, but recognized the hesitance in the silence.

"The slagsucker deserved it," he finally hissed.

Ironhide scowled fiercely and stormed out.

Sideswipe slumped in the corner, his bound arms scrapping a well-worn path down the wall. He rested his forehead against his knees. He could hear Sunstreaker settle on the other side of the wall.

"He'd tell me. He wouldn't lie. He _doesn't_ lie."

A derisive snort answered the red twin. "Actually he does lie."

Sideswipe lifted his head to direct a glare at the wall behind him.

"He does! For you."

The red shoulders sagged in defeat. Sideswipe had no defense for that.

* * *

Sideswipe lay on the gurney, waiting for Ratchet. Apparently his fight with Sunstreaker had wrenched a few cables. He hadn't even felt it until he'd stood to leave. 

Right then Ratchet was behind the curtain where Prowl lay.

"Welcome back to the land of moving parts."

Sideswipe automatically homed in on the soft voice that answered. He flinched internally at how weary and in pain Prowl sounded.

"If you're hurting, then say something, slaggit!"

Black fingers curled into fists as the red twin fought the urge to look in on his lover. He didn't think it'd be appreciated. Especially with Prime entering the medbay.

The Autobot Commander glanced at Sideswipe wordlessly, a tilt of his head the only acknowledgement he gave his soldier. Optimus disappeared behind the curtain.

"We were worried about you, Prowl."

Prowl's self-derisive chuckle filtered through the cloth.

"We were wondering if you know why Sunstreaker attacked you?"

_Because he's a slagged, suspicious idiot,_ Sideswipe grumbled to himself.

Sideswipe barely made out Prowl's answer, anxious as he was to know what it was.

"Dragstrip?" Prime sounded as surprised as Sideswipe felt. "Are you certain? Sunstreaker doesn't deny attacking you."

"I know a Decepticon when I see one, Prime," Prowl replied, his voice gaining strength.

"I see…" There came an embarrassed shuffling, then the buzz of a communication frequency being used. Presumably Ironhide had just been instructed to release Sunstreaker. "Jazz was worried when you didn't meet him and we told him you'd been damaged."

… what?

"I've told you that if you need time away from your duties, you just have to ask."

"It's better for me to just leave for a few megacycles."

Authority hardened Prime's voice. "Still, it'd be better for you to keep your meetings to the base for now. Especially if Decepticons are targeting you when you're by yourself out there." Though phrased as a request, Sideswipe recognized an order when he heard one.

"Yes, sir."

Sideswipe stared up at the ceiling, processor buzzing in shock and denial. A cover, it had to be. But Jazz knew. Why would Prowl tell Jazz? What did Prowl hold over the saboteur?

He was barely aware of Prime's farewell or Ratchet standing over him, opening a panel on his leg.

A cover, he told himself over and over again, it had to be.

"Is Prowl… okay?" he heard himself whisper to the medic.

The hands paused. "For all that he looked like slag when he came in. Yeah." Fingers rapped against Sideswipe's chest, drawing the warrior's gaze to Ratchet's scowl. "And don't even _think_ about disturbing him. I took him offline to allow his internal repairs a chance to work."

"Wouldn't process the thought," Sideswipe replied hazily. His optics turned to the curtain and then he offlined them.

A cover, it had to be.

* * *

They stood on opposite sides of the room, but knew that the other watched. Prowl stood with Mirage, datapad in hand. His soft voice melded into the general murmur of the room. Sideswipe laughed with Hound and Smokescreen, his second mug of energon in his hand. Sideswipe's attention wasn't completely on Hound's amusing tale. A good portion of his functions leaned toward the Datsun, intaking the soft voice, trying to detect the slightest acknowledgement.

The tactician had discharged himself from the medbay a few megacycles ago. He promised an apoplectic Ratchet not to do anything more strenuous than sit at his desk and go to the lounge. Prowl had needed to get _out. _Sideswipe knew Prowl hated being bored as much as he did, and not doing anything was driving him over the side of a cliff. Since Ratchet lacked some of the materials necessary to reconstruct Prowl's doorwings (again), there was no reason for him to remain in the med bay. Prowl teetered uncertainly as he moved, his balance skewed without his panels.

Sideswipe still hadn't had a chance to talk to his lover. He desperately needed the reassurance that Sunstreaker was _wrong_, and it was all just a cover. Prime's restriction had yet to lift, so Prowl couldn't meet him where it would be safe to talk.

A shadow slipped up behind the tactician. Black hands slid up Prowl's side into the gaps left by Prowl's missing wings. Mirage retreated at the not-so-subtle hint dropped by Jazz's smile. Sideswipe tensed, unnoticed, as all optics turned to the pair. Jazz kissed Prowl's helmet and whispered into the white receiver, his visor hiding his optics, but Sideswipe knew that the Porsche looked his way.

"Gah! Sideswipe!"

Wide optics turned to Hound.

"I don't mind getting dirty, but come on! I had a shower already today."

The red warrior looked down to find a broken cup in his hands. Energon dripped from his fingers.

"Sorry," he muttered, running on automatic as he retrieved a towel and helped clean the energon off the tracker's legs.

When he glanced back at the black and white mechs he found them gone.

"Them?" Smokescreen said, having noticed Sideswipe's glance. "Probably went off for a quick 'face. Between Prowl being injured and Jazz being gone, they're probably uh… like boars in a rut, I think the humans say." Smokescreen laughed, echoed by those close enough to hear the diversionary tactician.

Sideswipe's numb shock faded away, only to be replaced by static-filled anger.

Prowl had _lied_ to _him._

* * *

Mirage shut his mouth suddenly. 

A pair of arms slipped around Prowl's torso and someone nuzzled against his helmet.

_Sideswipe?_ was the first thought that crossed his CPU. Until the fingers pressed painfully into Prowl's side.

Mirage moved away, acting as though he'd decided to without any prompting.

Prowl automatically sought out Sideswipe. The red twin's wide optics focused with singular attention on the tactician. The cup in his hand shattered dropping its contents on Hound's legs.

"Jazz," he hissed at the sabouteur as a kiss was placed on his receiver.

Sideswipe turned at Hound's exclamation. Prowl recognized the hurt in his optics, the betrayal.

"Prowlie," Jazz murmured so low Prowl had to strain to hear, "is it one, or both?"

Prowl's surprised start was interrupted by pain shooting through his sides. He cut his vocalizer off against a pained whine.

"Quarters," he finally said.

"I thought as much."

He cast one last glance toward the Lamborghini before he strode toward his quarters with Jazz in tow. His hand caught the wall to aid his uncertain equilibrium. Jazz stepped up and supported the tactician with a hand under his elbow and an arm around his waist.

Prowl permitted this only because of the cameras he knew tracked their progress. His cortex whirled with a single question. _How did Jazz find out?_ Despite their arrangement, involuntary as it was, Prowl never divulged the truth to Jazz. Maybe just maybe Jazz didn't know or he assumed wrong. That thought was quickly dismissed. There were no other mechs on the base that would have drawn such an assumption. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe found some odd joy in sharing their trysts, but Sideswipe mentioned that Prowl was not his brother's type. Prowl knew that it was more than that: Sunstreaker loathed him, and only tolerated him for Sideswipe's sake. Although it didn't stop them from joking about it, to the tactician's discomfort.

The dim lights in Prowl's quarters brightened to their normal luminescence as soon as they entered. The door shut and Prowl turned to find Jazz frowning at him, his arms crossed over his chest. He waited in expectant silence for a breem, giving Prowl the chance to settle on his couch, to relieve his aching servos and sides.

"Well?"

"I am not sure I comprehend what you're referring to, Jazz," Prowl said evenly.

"It's a real simple question, Prowl. One I'll admit to bein' curious about m'self. D' ya only get one or both?"

Prowl struggled to retain his neutral expression. Jazz represented what the tactician hated most in the cosmos: Chaos. Sideswipe did some … unexpected things, but ultimately both twins were predictable. Jazz, on the hand, never failed to glitch Prowl's processor. Whenever Prowl thought he had the saboteur's patterns laid out properly in his CPU, Jazz would go and do something seemingly opposite.

Prowl could not predict Jazz's response, should he choose to answer the question and confirm the saboteur's suspicion or deny everything. Prowl ran every possibility through his battle computer, but could not separate the correct answer for the desired reaction. He settled on simple truth. "Just one." He did not count that one time long ago on Cybertron. The golden warrior had been overcharged and confused by the tactician's similar shape to a certain gunner. Sunstreaker had also made his feelings on the matter quite clear.

Jazz tucked hi chin down, apparently focused on the orange floor. "How long?"

"Enough."

The usually bright face darkened considerably. "I traced it back t' Cybertron, Prowl. Before th' blackouts." Jazz looked up, taking in the tactician's blank expression. "Longer than that, eh?" The Porsche pressed his lips into a thin line. "Man, Prowlie. If I told Prime that… I don' think ugly would describe it."

Prowl stiffened and panic blossomed in his normally calm cortex. "You… wouldn't." The look on the saboteur's face motivated the tactician forward. He gripped one of the arms crossed over the white bumper. "Please, Jazz."

Jazz uncrossed his arms and pulled the tactician closer. "An' why not? Prime'll think I've been coverin' for ya this _whole time_. He'll scrap me as bad as you an' Siders." Prowl could hear the grinding of Jazz's dental plates. "Slaggit." Jazz moved away, never really turning his back on the tactician. Prowl watched warily, ignoring the throb of his hinges.

"How does Sideswipe feel about this?"

Prowl blinked in confusion. "About what?"

Jazz paused and looked at the tactician. "He don't know, does he? It _was_ Sunny, wasn't it? Not Dragstrip."

Prowl stared at Jazz as little bits of information connected. That would reasonably explain Sunstreaker's violent… outburst toward the tactician. Oh, Primus, if Sunstreaker already knew, then so did Sideswipe.

"How did Sunstreaker find out?" How did _Jazz_ know Sunstreaker had found out. "You told him," Prowl whispered, following the information to its logical conclusion. Jazz grimaced, confirming his suspicions. "Primus. Oh, Primus, why did you do that Jazz?" Prowl's cortex whirled in a confused jumble as he tried to sort out Jazz's reasons. He had wanted to tell Sideswipe himself, but not without a workable plan of action. He was dimly aware of being led back to his couch.

Whereas Jazz had been an unknown quantity, Prowl knew what Sideswipe's reaction would be. The red warrior had as bad of a temper as his sociopathic brother. Normally it came out in the form of a harmful prank. When it came to being betrayed, though, Prowl realized that he'd get far worse than a simple prank.

"I'm sorry, Prowl. I never meant fer ya t' get hurt," Jazz murmured into the tactician's audio receiver.

Prowl shifted away form the saboteur to bury his face in his hands. "You didn't? But you had no problem blackmailing me, right?"

"That's different, sparkles."

Prowl abruptly stood, stumbling a few steps away from the other mech. "Get out!" the tactician growled.

"I don't know, Prowlie. Y' don't look well."

"_Out!_"

Jazz stood. "What about-"

"I don't _care_ right now!" Jazz could tell Prime, it didn't matter. Prowl had _betrayed _Sideswipe. What worse could Optimus do?

"Prowlie…"

"_GO!"_

The door hissed closed behind the saboteur.

Prowl crawled onto his berth, and curled into a ball of abject misery, haunted by the hurt on Sideswipe's face.

* * *

Author's Notes: Do I get cookies for the double update, despite the fact that I _still_ haven't resolved this slagging problem? -Okami is mad with herself- I fought my muse about this chapter, but my muse won. I'm sorry.This one is also not counting toward the three chapters (in other words it's still three chapters till the end. Should I even bother trying?)

Edit: Forgot to thank VAwitch for the chapter title. Thank you VAwitch. :)


	11. Break Off

Break Off

Author's notes: It split... again...

* * *

There is nothing harder than catching Jazz, especially when the slagger expected to be hunted. Sideswipe prowled from room to room searching for the black and white mech. He even searched the immediate grounds with no sign of the Porsche. Sideswipe scuffed at a rock stuck in the ground. He glared at the forest, unable to find the target of his ire. He entered the Ark, heading for the control room, and the communication center therein. Surely Blaster, of all mechs on the base, would know where his best friend was.

Sunstreaker's voice broke through his angry daze. "_Sides, where the slag are you? We're supposed to have been on patrol ten breems ago._"

"_I was trying to find Jazz, bro._"

"_Well get out here before Prowl finds out you're late._"

"_Let him say _one_ word to me,_" Sideswipe snarled back, his already sour mood darkening. But he turned and dropped to his wheels, screeching out to meet his brother.

Feet scattered out of his way. He recognized the winged form of Prowl.

"_Sideswipe?_" The tactician switched to his vocalizer to cover his comm. "No cars in the Ark." Even as he yelled at Sideswipe, Prowl continued with a quiet request over the comm. channel. "_Can we talk?"_

Sideswipe ignored both the message and Prowl's shout. Nine years on the fragging green planet and just now he wanted to talk? Oh fragging Pits, no.

If it hadn't been for that slagging glitch saboteur, they'd still happy. Somehow, this _had_ to be Jazz's fault.

Sunstreaker pulled up next to him, pressing closer to lightly tap his side, offering comfort with his touch. The twins dropped their speed to a little faster than was needed on patrol.

"_Why Jazz?_" Sunstreaker asked suddenly. "_It's that lying fragger you should be after. He's the one who betrayed you_."

Sideswipe paused in snapping out a retort. Mad as he was, he wanted to put his fists into something, but he was still reluctant to lay a hand on Prowl. He still loved the slagger, after all. Several tens of thousands of vorn of attachment wouldn't just disappear in the course of a human week. "_I don't want to hurt Prowl,_" he finally admitted.

"_What are you talking about? He fragging _deserves _it! This is a load of glitchmice from the Pits._" Sunstreaker ground his gears in frustration. "_I don't think Jazz has any idea what's going on, and he does _not_ need to find out. He's a smart slagger and he would've been more careful talking to me if he knew about you and Prowl._"

Sideswipe considered this. His brother had a point. If Jazz didn't already know, then he didn't need to find out. Sideswipe turned sharply at one of the intersections along their patrol route, his wheels squealing out his anger on the street. But the saboteur had looked in _his_ direction with such a jealously possessive grip on Prowl…

"Fine, bro. I'll talk to the slagger." This was going to end, one way or the other.

* * *

Prowl hesitated at the door to his quarters, his hinges twitching with the painful reminder that he still lacked his doorwings. Jazz's delving into the open crevices had helped him none, and he looked forward to curling up in recharge. He analyzed everything in his room, searching for the source of his unease. He ran through his routine from the morning. Did he lay that datapad there before he left? Was that picture askew before? He pulled from his memory files and laid them out against his battle computer several times. Unable to find the anomaly, Prowl completed the final steps into his room and his door hissed close behind him.

He realized with a start that it had been his _sensors_ that were warning him. He was so accustomed to the sanctity of the officers' quarters that he'd completely ignored the presence that his scanners told him was there. He scrambled away from the looming figure that stepped out of a shadowed corner. He realized _why_ he'd ignored that signature as a hand grabbed his arm, halting his progress.

"Sideswipe? What are you doing here?"

A sneer crossed the Lamborghini's handsome face. "Why? You wouldn't be expecting _someone else_ would you? That would be fragging prime, you know, two 'Cons with one shot.

"No, Sides, I'm not expecting anyone else. Why would I be?" Prowl stiffened in the warrior's hands. He'd never really had any reason to fear his lover, but the chilling look in Sideswipe's optics and the harsh grip on his arm forced him to remember that this _was_ Sunstreaker's brother. Just as violent, just as dangerous. But _Prowl_ had never had any cause to face that side of the red twin. If it hadn't been for the familiar conformation and the red paint, Prowl would have thought himself back in those woods facing a wrathful Sunstreaker.

Sideswipe glowered down at the tactician and squeezed Prowl closer. "Oh, I don't know, Prowl. Maybe someone else black and white?" His vocalizer dropped a few octaves and air hissed out of his vents. "I don't like being made a fool of, Prowl. Even if nobody else knows about it." Sideswipe thrust Prowl away suddenly, and jerked him back just as quickly. Prowl staggered in Sideswipe's grip, his sides aching as he tried to compensate for the warrior's movement.

"Sideswipe, wait! You don't understand-" Prowl hadn't realized that he'd been dragged around his quarters until Sideswipe swung him into the desk. He cut off his vocalizer against a yell. He did _not_ need anyone coming in to investigate, not right now.

"Oh, I _understand_, all right. Nine slagging years, you and Jazz've been _laughing_ your tailpipes off at me." Sideswipe whipped the tactician around, wrenching his arms back and up. "Well you've had your fun. Now it's my turn, _Prowl._"

"Nine years?" Cables and gears whined in Prowl's shoulder, pressing painfully on his door hinges. "No. It hasn't been that long-" It was the wrong thing to say as Sideswipe kicked Prowl away.

"You're not denying it?" Sideswipe's voice rose, making Prowl's audio receptors ring.

Prowl shut off the pain receptors in his shoulders and ignored the dull ach that left. He pushed himself to his feet, finding himself face to face with the irate twin.

"No, I'm not." Fury blazed in those blue optics. "But if you will just listen…" Prowl never knew what hit him.

He gazed up at the lights in his room, wondering how he ended up on the floor against the wall, until they were blocked by a looming figure. Optics burned from a silver face. He shook, Prowl realized. He was furious and, yet, still holding back.

"Sideswipe," Prowl put as much authority as he could muster into his words. He didn't like to do it when they met, but if someone else walked in right now, he'd have no reasonable explanation for what was happening. "Get out before someone comes." Prowl rolled over and dragged himself upright.

"What the slag does that matter? Everyone knows it's you and Jazz." A pile driver landed dangerously close to Prowl's knee. "What the frag does _Sideswipe _matter?"

Prowl glared at his lover. He clawed his way up the wall and to his feet. "Don't talk like that."

"And why in the Pits not?" The warrior leaned closer.

"You're not _listening_, Sideswipe. Go cool your processor and come back when you're willing to listen like a _civilized_ mech." Prowl narrowed his optics at the red twin, taking an unsteady step forward to meet Sideswipe's glower.

Sideswipe leaned away to set his feet apart and cross his arms over his chest. "I ain't goin' anywhere, Prowlie."

White hands balled into fists. "If you don't leave, then _I_ will. You'd better not be here when I return, either." The tactician put action to words, and headed for the door. Two steps away and Sideswipe's voice stopped him mid-step.

"You go through that door and it's _over_, Prowl."

Every system seized in Prowl's frame. "You're willing to throw away almost thirty thousand vorn because of nine _years_?" He stared limply at the twin's back.

Sideswipe stood, resolutely facing the wall. "You _lied_ to me, Prowl. You _used_ me. How in the Inferno is that supposed to make me feel?"

Prowl opened his mouth to object, and then clamped it shut. He scowled at the red mech. "When you're ready to talk, you know what to do." Prowl stared at the door, gathering the strength for those last few steps.

"I'm _serious_, Prowl."

Sideswipe wasn't making this easy on the tactician. "Well, I'm not giving up on you as quickly as you have on me." Motors activated and the door opened.

Then it closed.

Prowl stared at the orange doors, a hollowness filling him where once there'd been such joy. "I'm sorry," he muttered, aware of the futility of his actions. He passed a hand over his face and leaned his chevron against the door. Then he turned and walked away from his quarters and the warrior within.

* * *

Prowl quietly worked on his own arm, hunkered down amidst a stack of crates in one of the storage areas. He should have probably seen Ratchet about the damage to his gears, but that would have invited too many unwanted questions. Questions Prowl didn't have an answer for yet. His cortex churned with confusion that prevented him from thinking clearly. He had to think clearly, he had to come up with a solution.

Damn that slagging saboteur.

It was all _his_ fault.

Black hands reached from behind and plucked the tool out of Prowl's fingers. The tactician looked up and the small spark of hope died at the visored face. Jazz worked on Prowl's arm quietly for a few moments before he spoke.

"How can y' stand there an' let him do this t' ya."

Prowl ground his dental plates. "Why?" The tactician winced as Jazz pressed on a sensitive circuit.

"Don't be like that, Prowlie. I'm jus' worried 'bout ya. We both know the twins are violent mechs. What can ya expect?"

"For you to mind your own business." Prowl reached for the repair kit, but Jazz slid it out of the Datsun's reach.

Prowl leveled a glare at the Porsche and rocked himself to his feet, catching his balance with a hand on a nearby crate.

Jazz swept up behind him, holding him steady with a steel grip on his waist. "I ain't done fixing your arm yet, Prowlie."

"I don't want your help , Jazz."

"Ya don't have ta ask fer help, Prowl." Jazz pulled the tactician closer, hugging his torso. "It's what Autobots do."

Prowl threw his head back and laughed. Dry and mirthless, he sank to his knees, pulling Jazz with him. He shook with more than laughter. His fuel tanks churned threatening to purge. Jazz's words made him nauseous, and sent his logic circuits ablaze in confusion.

"It's what," he managed between fits of giggles, "Autobots do."

Fingers turned him to look at a concerned face.

"…What… Autobots… do…"

* * *

Sideswipe couldn't help himself. He followed, keeping his distance as Ratchet reamed Jazz up and down for whatever foolish thing he'd done to freeze Prowl's computer. Ratchet carried on the tirade until the doors to the medbay closed between him and the saboteur. Even through the trilythium steel doors his voice rang through, showing the extent of his ire.

He wondered what Ratchet would say when he categorized the full scope of Prowl's damage.

He hadn't been gentle. He knew without seeing the Datsun. His fingers remembered the way Prowl's arms dented. He could still feel Prowl's jaw on his knuckles. He shifted his feet, trying to shake off the sense of stepping on his lover. He hadn't been gentle, even though he had restrained himself. Even though he'd never wanted to hurt him What a reminder that he was Sunstreaker's brother.

Jazz turned to the red twin and he tilted his head, glowering. "Man, it looks like he got sideswiped, don't it?"

Sideswipe narrowed his optics. "Oh ha, ha very funny. I thought he looked a little jazzed out, personally." The warrior leaned his shoulder against the wall. His lips curved into the imitation of a smile. "I hear you and Prowl have been together for nine years now." The pseudo smile disappeared. "Congratulations on hiding it so well."

Jazz shrugged, a smile of his own gracing his lips. "Yeah, well ya don' thing yer th' only one good at hidin' things are ya? Prowl's picked up some pretty bad habits from all that time he's spent watchin' yer every move."

The warrior clenched his fists. "If you hurt him…"

Jazz nodded toward the closed med bay doors. "Can't hurt him any worse than he already is, can I?"

"The slagsucker deserved it." Slaggit, now he was even sounding like Sunstreaker.

"Yeah, well the humans have a saying. 'When y' play with fire, y'can only get burnt." Jazz huffed a laugh. "Or somethin' like that. Looks like Prowlie got burned big time, by a very crimson flame, I'd say.

Sideswipe snapped a hand out, snatching at the saboteur. But Jazz was fast. The Porsche faced the Lamborghini a few steps away from where he stood before, still smiling that same damned knowing smirk.

"Now Siders, that ain't very proper of ya, lashing out at an officer, now is it?"

Sideswipe curled his lips into a sneer. The red warrior stepped toward the black and white mech. "Lash out? Why Jazz, whatever do you mean?" He glared at Jazz from under his helmet. "I'm just trying to give you a hug to congratulate you for getting your spark's desire. "

Jazz danced out of Sideswipe's reach again. "Aw, thanks, Siders. I appreciate the sentiment, but duty calls. Don't want to be late, y'know. I got big plans for Prowl an' me." His grin broadened. "Big plans. 'Specially since he won't be needin' to sneak outta the Ark to escape his duties. Am I right?"

Sideswipe lunged for the saboteur, but the damnable mech kept slipping out of his grasp. Damn Jazz. Damn him for figuring things out too slagging easily. Damn Prowl, too. Damn him. Damn him! _**Damn him!**_

Jazz slid around the corner and disappeared as easily as Mirage.

Sideswipe shoved a fist into the wall, hissing static out from his vocalizer. Damn himself, he couldn't hate Prowl.

* * *

Author's notes 2: I know. I _know_. It's threatening to split _again_ too. 


	12. Make Off

Make Off

* * *

Irritable wouldn't begin to describe Sideswipe's disposition. He sat on the couch in the quarters he and Sunstreaker shared, angrily mashing the buttons on the Transformer-sized controller in his hands. He had no desire to go to the rec room and hang with his friends. They had even less desire to see him as his sour mood made him as pleasant to be with as Sunstreaker.

His character moved across the screen, pulling out impossibly big weapons to blow up the oncoming enemies. He set his personal imaging processes to replace the enemies with little black and white mechs, occasionally a Porsche, or a Datsun, and even the rare Enforcer or Sleektilt. It gave him some small sense of gratification to blow them up, even if it was just in his cortex.

Sunstreaker stepped into the room, soft towel thrown over his shoulder. Sideswipe blinked and frowned at the over-sized Jazz that stood where his sensors, and his spark, told him his brother was.

"Sides, you're not doing that _again_, are you? Reset your imagers, or I'll fragging break your optics."

Sideswipe scowled and turned his attention back to the game, resuming the destruction of tacticians and saboteurs.

"This is slotting ridiculous." The golden Lamborghini swung Sideswipe back around to face him.

This time Sideswipe saw Prowl.

He almost reached out to the doorwings. Almost said the tactician's name. Almost _jumped_ his former lover.

It was enough to convince him to go ahead and reset his imaging processor to default.

Sunstreaker eyed Sideswipe, arms crossed over his chest, as if he _knew_ what Sideswipe had been about to do. "_That_ is exactly what I mean when I say this is ridiculous. Go and get your mind off him. Bluestreak's been wondering what's wrong with you, and won't leave me the frag alone." Sunstreaker leaned in. "If you don't leave this room, I'll slagging haul you outside and tie you to the peak just to get you out of here. And since you probably haven't been keeping up to date with the weather, it's raining sheets out there."

Sideswipe glared at Sunstreaker, who glared right back. Finally the red twin stood and flicked off the game, not even bothering to save it and then he stormed out of the room. He cast one last glare over his shoulder at his brother before the door closed between them.

* * *

Prowl hated this. He hated Jazz for doing it to him. He hated Sunstreaker for uncovering it too soon. He hated Sideswipe for being an aft-headed fool that didn't listen. He hated that he still loved that slagging idiot. He hated hating him, as illogical as it seemed.

Prowl hated the feel of Jazz pressing up against him; his lips caressing his own. Prowl hated himself for subjecting to the unwanted touches. He hated the other mechs for not minding their own business. He hated that Jazz would wait until they were in a roomful of optics to try and soothe him. Where Prowl couldn't object to the strokes and kisses.

Prowl hated that Jazz chose to do it in front of Sideswipe of all mechs, and forced Prowl to submit to his caresses and kisses. He hated that Sideswipe did nothing, that he could do nothing or risk exposing their affair. He hated that he still hoped, when all he saw was despair.

The Autobots time on Earth had distorted their Cybertronian sense of time. They'd adjusted their schedules to fit in with the humans, to make interactions easier on both parties. These past two decacycles dragged along like a metacycle. The breems spent in Jazz's arms took megacycles.

The saboteur went out of his way to fondle Prowl in front of everybody, especially Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. He wanted everyone to know that Prowl was _his._

Neither twin had spoken to Prowl since Sideswipe had ended their relationship. Orders were acknowledged with deepened frowns. Prime and Ironhide wondered why Prowl didn't call them to task for their insubordination.

Prowl had hoped that Jazz would leave him be, but with not-so-subtle hints, he told Prowl that he could still stir up trouble.

So he sat there, waiting for Jazz to release him, or guide him to one of their quarters. He responded only when pressed; his attention riveted on the one he desired.

Sideswipe ignored the two cuddling mechs, but anger burned in his optics. His friends sat just a little bit further from him, unsure of what angered him. He ignored Prowl's quiet attempts to catch his attention, the silent language they'd worked out to convey their affection to one another.

Jazz seemed to notice Prowl's attention had wandered from him.

"Y'seem tired, Prowl. Why don't we go to your quarters?"

Prowl automatically stood and followed the black and white mech through the ship. He delved into memory files of happier vorn. He didn't notice they'd arrived at his door until Jazz roughly shook him out of his reverie.

"Ain't y' listenin', Prowlie? Put in yer access code."

Prowl lifted his hand, and shielded the keypad with a doorwing. Entering the required combination sent a surge of pain through the hollowness of his emotional circuits. He hadn't changed the combination since the day he'd walked out, away from Sideswipe. Anything locked, that he wanted Sideswipe to have access to; he used one of the many conversions of that first decacycle together. A time Prowl still remembered as though it had happened a bare breem ago.

"Prowl!"

The tactician turned his gaze toward the saboteur, only then noticing that they were in his quarters.

"Y'were thinking of _him_ again, weren't ya?" Black hands curled at Jazz's side.

"I'm _always_ thinking of him now, Jazz." Blue optics narrowed. "It's hard to take one's thought processes off something denied."

Jazz lifted his hands. "Hey, I ain't keepin' Siders fram ya. He's doin' that himself."

Doorwings rose, and flared behind Prowl. "And so you're completely blameless then, are you?" Prowl modulated his vocalizer down, he hadn't meant o yell so loud. "Where do you process that-" Jazz shushed Prowl with a finger over his lips.

"Now, now. Yer gonna make yerself upset. I don' like seein' ya so unhappy."

"Then go! I was _happy_ before you came along. I was happy with _Side_-"

"Shut up! Shut up about him! I'm sick'a ya talkin' 'bout him. He don' want ya. He tol' ya himself." Jazz waved his hands in sharp, angry motions. "An' now he's makin' ya miserable. Jus' forget about him." The saboteur grabbed Prowl's shoulders. "Yer mine, now. An' I don' wanna hear it."

Prowl looked away, his doorwings drooping.

Primus help him, he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to get out of this. Without Sideswipe there waiting for him, he didn't think he could bring himself to care.

* * *

"I wonder where Jazz is?"

Sideswipe glared at Bluestreak at the mention of the saboteur. The gunner, completely oblivious of the warrior's glower, prattled on.

"I never thought he'd miss this party. Not when he'd gone through so much trouble to help set it up. He even took Carly out shopping, and she always annoys him when he does that. Of course he had Blaster with him and they got new sound systems, which always make them happy. I'm surprised he and Blaster didn't end up together. He never seemed like Prowl's type. Of course I didn't know Prowl had a type, except maybe Ultra Magnus. Hey Sideswipe, I wonder if Optimus has been able to find him again."

Sideswipe glared around the room, suddenly filled with the inane desire to see his ex-lover. He forced his gaze to the floor, fighting temptation. Bluestreak continued on, jumping from one subject to the next.

"_Sides, get to sector 342 _now" Sunstreaker's voice roared over his comm. Channel.

Sideswipe stiffened. "I gotta go, Blue."

Bluestreak broke off his rambling, doorwings lifted in surprise. "Really? Why? It's barely begun. Is something wrong?"

Sideswipe squeezed the gunner's shoulder tires and pressed a brief kiss on his lips. "Nah, it's just Sunny. Someone probably threw mud at him or something." The warrior didn't wait for Bluestreak to answer.

Sideswipe took off at a brisk trot, mustering an apologetic smile at those he forced to the side.

"Hey, Sider, where's the fire?" Blaster shouted.

Sideswipe waved the boombox's concern away. "It's just Sunny. I'll be back."

Despite his easy dismissal, something about Sunstreaker's tone set him on edge. As soon he passed the Ark's entrance he transformed and took off. He swept through the small gathering outside and homed in on Sunstreaker's signal. His brother was moving.

_Why in the pits wasn't he there already? Slaggit, he'd better not make me miss that party…_

The two Lamborghinis arrived at the aptly named 'Dead Mech's Canyon' at the same time. Sideswipe braked as Sunstreaker stumbled to his feet.

"Primus…"

Black and white paint dotted Sunstreaker's paint job. It immediately brought to mind his brother's attack on Prowl.

"Not again. You didn't…" Sideswipe hated the fact that he still didn't want to see the tactician hurt.

"You need to talk to him," Sunstreaker snapped.

"Primus, Sunny, what did you do?" Sideswipe heard himself ask, again.

"You're wretched, Sides. You're using fragging Bluestreak as a substitute for Prowl, because they look alike. And don't tell me that's not true. You are _miserable_. And, honestly as much as I hate him, I don't think Prowl's happy either."

Sideswipe transformed, eyeing the marks all over Sunstreaker. "Sunny, would you stop and make sense. What happened?"

"I… talked… to Jazz." No guilt touched his proud face.

"And will this talk land you in the brig _again_?"

"Probably." The golden warrior shrugged. "But that's not the point. I think you need to talk Prowl."

Sideswipe shook his head, frowning in confusion. "You went after Jazz, after telling me that it was _Prowl_ who betrayed me."

"Because, you're making _me_ feel wretched. And that slagger's acting too smug for his own good about the whole smelted thing." The vain twin scowled down at his ruined paint job. "It wasn't easy, either. So you slagging well better appreciate it. And go. Talk. To. Prowl."

Sideswipe threw his hands in the air. "As long as you've objected to our relationship, you suddenly want me to make up with him?"

Sunstreaker looked up, and his optics darkened with emotion he rarely expressed outside of the privacy of their quarters. "He makes you happy, bro. I may hate _him_, but if I can make _you _happy again, I'll deal with it."

"So why the sudden change in processing. What did Jazz say?"

In fair imitation of the saboteur's voice, Sunstreaker spoke. "I finally found something' t' hold him. What makes y' think I'll give him up so easily."

The brothers stared at one another while Sideswipe ran those words through his logic circuits. His optics widened and his spark sang with the realization.

"It's not Prowl's fault."

* * *

Worn brakes squealed as Prowl rolled to a stop. A golden Lamborghini sat on the side of the road, right next to the mech-sized hidden path to one of many rendezvous points. A sense of unease crawled along Prowl's circuits as he recalled the last time he'd come out here. He gunned his engine, unsure whether he should return to base, or trust the twins.

Hope had driven him out here, despite caution's warning. Just like last time, Sunstreaker had delivered the message, as sullen as always. Sideswipe had made no indication that he knew of the arrangement between then and now.

Trust sent him the rest of the way. He gave Sunstreaker a wide berth and though Prowl was aware of the sensors directed at him, the golden twin acted like the tactician wasn't there. Since they had ignored him, at every given opportunity, that message made Prowl conclude that perhaps Sideswipe was finally ready to listen.

If he had been human he would have cried.

He transformed and stepped through the bushes and trees.

Sunstreaker remained where he was, message clear. 'I'll let you talk, but if you cause trouble, I'm coming in.'

Sideswipe sat on the edge of the small embankment at the brook's edge.

The tactician relaxed, relieved to see his lover. He had never stopped thinking of Sideswipe as anything else. He longed to simply sit there and revel in the warrior's company, but he couldn't shake the sense of abandonment he still felt. It held him back and kept him on his feet, ready to move should Sideswipe show aggression, or should Sunstreaker appear.

"Sides," he started when the silence grew unbearable.

"Nine years, Prowl. Why couldn't you tell me?" The warrior didn't turn to look at the tactician.

"If it had really been that long, I would have told you, Sides."

Sideswipe slid a glare over his shoulder. "That's what Jazz said."

"You believed him?" Prowl winced at how sharp that sounded to his audio receptors.

The warrior turned, still sitting on the muddy bank. "Well, I don't know, Prowl. What am I supposed to believe? You are everything to me, and yet you couldn't say a _word_ to me. I had to find out from _Sunstreaker_. Do you know how that makes me feel?"

Prowl's optics dimmed and he shifted uncomfortably. "I can imagine."

"How long?"

"A metacycle."

Sideswipe scowled. "Why couldn't you tell me?"

Prowl relaxed, his doorwings trembling with relief. Finally, Sideswipe was listening. "I wanted to be able to present a solution with the problem."

Sideswipe's gaze never left the tactician. "You know how I feel about you 'facing with anyone else. Not once have you complained. So, why?"

Prowl hesitated, pride mixed with a fear of sounding incredulous stalled his answer. Sideswipe waited patiently as one and then two breems ticked by. "It was not by choice."

Blue optics narrowed under that black helmet. "What the slag does that mean?" The warrior's voice rose as did his body. Fists clenched in the dirt as he shoved himself to his feet. "How can it not be by choice? Jazz seemed awfully happy for you not to have _chosen_ him." Sideswipe grabbed Prowl's shoulders and shook him. "Talk to me fraggit!"

The tactician's systems heated as the long withheld emotions finally rose to the surface. He shook and his vocalizer hitched against speaking. His optical relays shorted out, blinding him. Guilt crushed him, and grief flailed at his spark.

Cracking branches announced Sunstreaker's arrival. Prowl felt Sideswipe gesture sharply at his brother, before returning his hand to Prowl. The fingers loosened on his arms and Sideswipe spoke in a gentle, coaxing voice. "Talk to me, sparkles."

Unwilling to look at his lover, Prowl turned his gaze to the ground when his optics came back on line. He struggled for the control he usually had. Slow and halting, he spoke.

He started at the beginning and told Sideswipe everything.

* * *

Sideswipe didn't move the entire time. Only the fine motors in his face shifted as his frown deepened or he glanced at his brother. His systems heated with anger as Prowl related just what he and Jazz did; anger that Jazz would _force_ Prowl to do anything. Sideswipe shook with restrained fury, itching to hunt down the retro rat and make him _pay_.

Sunstreaker had come, thinking there'd been a problem when Sideswipe raised his voice. Now he stood with his arms crossed, optics dark and a scowl in place and listened.

The tactician finished and he glanced up at Sideswipe. The black and white frame still shook and his ventilators still whined noisily.

Sideswipe didn't say anything, running Prowl's words through his processor and committing them to a memory file all their own. Finally he looked into his lover's dim optics.

"I'm sorry Sideswipe." Shaking fingers brushed the red chevron. "I lost control of everything. I … didn't…" and the effort it took to say those words cracked his voice, "know what to do."

The red warrior frowned. "You _should_ have told me." Blue optics looked up at the other twin.

Sunstreaker moved back through the woods, understanding. "_If you need me, bro. I'm there._"

"_I know._"

Fingers brushed against his cheek, drawing his attention to the tactician. He leaned his face into that touch and the despair lifted from Prowl's optics.

Prowl stroked Sideswipe's face, then his shoulder. His hesitance spoke of an unrelieved fear of rejection. "I wanted to tell you, Sides. There were many times I almost did."

The warrior slid an arm around Prowl's waist, pulling the tactician closer. He hugged Prowl and Prowl wrapped his arms around Sideswipe. The tactician shook, his sorrow unabated. "I was trying to keep you out of the brig, or worse, because you terminated Jazz."

A laugh rumbled out of the warrior's engine. "You slagging, slagging idiot." Despite the words, he spoke in a soft voice. "Don't you trust me?" Sideswipe clung to his errant lover. "Together we can beat this. We'll think of something." Sideswipe rested his forehead against Prowl's chevron. "We always have, and together we always will."

A smile lifted Prowl's mouth for the briefest of moments. "Why are you being so logical about this? That's my job."

Their lips touched timidly, tentatively, as unsure as the first time so long ago. It would take time to undo the harm this had caused. Cybertronians were notoriously long-lived. Time, they had plenty of.

* * *

Author's note: This has been sitting on the hard drive for about a week, but I wasn't happy with it. I'm still not entirely happy with it, so maybe sometime far far down the road it'll get a rewrite. I've decided to not even try to count how many chapters are left before the story's finished. Though my goal will now be to finish it before nanowrimo. --;; 


	13. First Off

First Off

Time: Pre-Earth

* * *

Steel cables strained with the weight they were commanded to lift. Meter by meter the section of wall rose, accompanied by the whine of a surging vocalizer. Metal scrapped and dragged its way out from under the collapsed wall. Fingers clawed and grasped, pulling Sideswipe's substantial weight. 

The red twin twisted, wincing and grunting as he forced his mangled legs over. They lay before him, spurting pink energon.

Prowl set the wall down as carefully as he lifted it, sliding himself down with his own twisted leg out in front of him.

The two mechs regarded each other, both unsure what exactly to make of the situation. Prowl reached over his shoulder to finger the crumpled metal of his doorwings. He winced, easing his doors back. His optics flickered with patterns. He frowned at the result. "Is your communicator working?"

Sideswipe focused on the Enforcer. "Wha-?" He shook his addled cranium clear. "My communicator?" He ran a quick diagnostic on the requested system. "No, it's slag."

Prowl nodded. "I thought as much." The tactician unsubspaced a beacon and activated it with stiff fingers.

Sideswipe moaned. "Great. How long do you think it'll take before they find us?"

Prowl shifted about, trying to get comfortable. "It'll take as long as it takes, I surmise."

"Slotted fragging prime," the warrior groaned.

Prowl's optics slid over the red frame, scrutinizing. "Do you have any other major damage besides your legs?"

Sideswipe pulled up a more intensive diagnostic. _Well that's not going to cause a problem. Oh no, not at all_. "Well, the good news is I don't have any major circuit damage."

Prowl tilted his head, his mangled chevron casting a disjointed shadow on his helm. "So what is damaged?"

Sideswipe frowned, trust Prowl to spoil _any_ type of fun. "One of my intake's busted. Oh, and my internal repairs are having trouble stemming the flow of energon."

The tactician's optics flashed. "That is a problem. Here, see what you can do with this."

Sideswipe stared in disbelief as Prowl pulled out a redi medkit. "Do you have Prime's trailer in there, too?"

"It's called being prepare, Sideswipe. Perhaps it is a lesson you should learn." Prowl handed Sideswipe the medkit. "I'm sure you know what to do with that."

"Slag off," Sideswipe frowned, "sir."

Prowl cast his own glare at the warrior. Then he sat back and dimmed his optics.

Sideswipe grumbled into the ensuing silence. He quietly clamped the leaking lines in his legs, the flow automatically redirecting itself to avoid clogging his fuel lines. That took him all of a cycle and left him wheezing in pain. Trust pitspawn Prowl to make him tend his own injuries.

Sideswipe managed to stay still for another cycle, a cycle after his leg stopped throbbing. Prowl remained patiently quiet the entire time, contemplating whatever tacticians processed.

His fingers started first, twitching in a restless, rhythm-less beat. He shifted unable to find comfort in any position. He idly picked up one piece of debris after another, carelessly flinging them from him. His mood soured and darkened, his engine growling out his foul temper.

His fingers swept across the ground. He had cleared everything he could lift in the immediate area. His fingers clawed into the concrete floor, digging furrows into the stone. "Slaggit."

"Is there a problem?"

Sideswipe jerked his gaze to the unexpected voice. The tactician had been so quiet that Sideswipe had almost forgotten about him. Prowl regarded him with his ever-present frown in place.

"No." Sideswipe smacked the back of his helmet against the heavy rubble behind him. A sigh grated painfully out of his strained vent.

Rather than return to his quiet processing, Prowl shifted and dragged himself closer.

"Bored?"

Sideswipe glared at the second-in-command. "Amused I can't even pull a prank."

Prowl winced as his doorwings drew back. "Actually I hadn't even processed that thought." Prowl sat next to Sideswipe, with still a few meters between them. "I was wondering if you know how to play Firestorm?"

Sideswipe eyed the Enforcer. "Kinda, yeah. I've never played it by the rules though."

Prowl pulled a case out of subspace, its sides etched with complex mathematical designs. He balanced it on one leg and popped the case open.

"You're fragging _sure_ you don't have Prime's trailer in there?"

"Yes Sideswipe," Prowl said with an edge of impatience. He pulled out and unfolded the board , then the second tier.

"You come prepared for a _game_ in the middle of a battle?"

Prowl tilted his head, a smile turning the corners of his lips. "Well, I suppose I forgot to remove it from my subspace before we left." He plucked out and placed the little figures that represented the two armies.

Sideswipe watched Prowl scatter the figurines several times before he moved to help the tactician. "What's wrong with your fingers?"

Prowl continued removing the pieces, and directing Sideswipe in their proper placement. "I suppose I landed on them wrong. I cannot bend them like I should."

"You're not going to yell at me for crashing Downpour into that ledge?"

"No. I believe that having to spend an uncertain amount of time with me is punishment enough."

The flash of Prowl's optics made Sideswipe stiffen. _Did Rod-Up-His-Aft Prowl just tell a joke?_ "I guess it's better you than Red. He'd be panicking at _every_ little noise, even ones _I_ can't hear."

Prowl turned his face, hiding his amusement behind his cheek guard. "At least you wouldn't be bored."

"No… but it'd be either me or Red coming out of this, one of us wouldn't last."

The tactician's optics brightened, though he didn't respond to the threat to another officer. "Why don't you show me the way you play. I'm interested in seeing other ways besides normal regulations. Then I shall show you the proper way of play."

They played through one round, Prowl sweeping through Sideswipe's defense and claiming the Core. Sideswipe reset the board and Prowl taught the slower method of the game. Again he swept through Sideswipe's forces, taking out the Airbarge, although it cost him three of his Ultra Convoys. Sideswipe glared at the board and reset the pieces.

They played in silence, Prowl moving his soldiers to his tactical advantage. Sideswipe watched the pieces sweep around his main force. A few guns and an Airbarge sat elsewhere, seemingly ignored in lieu of the contingent that closed in on the Core. Prowl moved his Guardian one block away from where it guarded the Core and wiped out the warrior's main force. Sideswipe smirked and his Airbarge and guns laid waste to the Guardian and Prowl's surrounding troops. Sideswipe lifted the empty core, triumph written on his face.

"Pity there's no grade for the winner."

Prowl stared at the pieces Sideswipe had 'destroyed.' "That was foolhardy. You couldn't know that I would move the Guardian in such a manner."

Sideswipe set the victory container back down and set up the board for another round. "It's called a gamble, Prowl. Try it some time."

Prowl lifted his gaze to meet Sideswipe's. "It's no wonder you need repairs after every battle. You sacrificed all of your troops…"

* * *

It wasn't the last time Sideswipe won against the tactician, but Prowl held his own and countered the unexpected maneuvers a number of times. Ironhide's face, when he finally stumbled across them, would have its own file in Prowl's memory banks. The Security Officer obviously hadn't been expecting to find the Toughline and the Enforcer softly laughing as they countered one another's moves. 

Prowl just wished the delinquent would better spend his excess energy in similar pursuits. Surely Hound or Smokescreen wouldn't be adverse to approaching the warrior about future matches. It would keep Sideswipe out of trouble however briefly.

Prowl dimmed his optics, phrasing the report on the battle in his cortex for when he had a chance to lay it out on a datapad.

The medbay doors opened and admitted two sets of noisy feet. Sunstreaker's less than pleasant voice called out to his brother.

"You're a fragging idiot, Sides. What the slag were you thinking taking out Downpour like that?"

Springer laughed, tugging down the fist Sunstreaker shook at the red twin. "Aw, don't you think he's gotten enough, having to spend nearly a megacycle alone with Prowl."

Prowl caught the glance the red warrior threw at him. His doorwings twitched in response. It didn't matter to him what was said. He knew all about the names they called him when they thought he couldn't hear. They failed to take Red Alert's ever watchful surveillance into account. The Security Director often came to him, demanding he take the offenders to task. Prowl didn't really care what was said about him, he was used to it.

He ignored them, only taking into account that Springer's presence meant Ultra Magnus had arrived. He looked forward to a game with the field commander.

* * *

Prowl stepped into Prime's office, wondering what had prompted the summons. Ultra Magnus had left only a few cycles ago, taking a few of Prime's soldiers with him. 

Optimus turned from the tactical maps behind his desk. He held a hand out to the chair on the other side of his desk.

The tactician sat down, his doorwings brushing the back of the chair. "Is there a problem, Prime?"

"Care to explain the meaning of this?"

Optimus nodded at the monitor on the wall. He tapped a few commands in.

An image appeared. Prowl and Sideswipe faced one another across a Firestorm board. One by one they maneuvered the pieces the prescribed spaces.

"We are playing Firestorm, sir," Prowl ventured. Prime tilted his masked chin down, waiting. Prowl stiffened at the unexpected scrutiny at what he considered an innocuous act. "I am testing a new disciplinary measure." Prime tapped his fingers in the desk. "It's considered a form of punishment by some of our more delinquent individuals to be forced to spend time with myself."

Optimus glanced at the monitor, just in time to catch Sideswipe chortling at some move Prowl had tried. "This is punishment?"

"Testing, sir."

The Autobot Commander turned from the screen. He sighed. "You understand where the problem lies?"

Prowl's door panels squeezed the back of the seat. "Yes, but-"

Prime slapped his hand down on the desk. "There _has_ to be a line, Prowl." Optimus' tone softened. "For your sake, if not the unit's. How can you order a good friend into a dangerous situation? How can you maintain discipline when you are buddies with the offenders?"

Prowl held himself from sagging. Once Prime got started he was as unstoppable as a chain reaction. Prowl waited patiently through prime's lecture.

He knew it was illogical, but there was an intelligent spark underneath that mischievous core. He wanted to draw that potential out. It would make Sideswipe a much better soldier if he could plan out his moves to everyone's advantage.

"I understand, Prime," he said when Optimus finished speaking. "Like I said it was a test, I will not continue with that method."

Prowl didn't use Firestorm as a punishment again. Still Sideswipe continued to get into trouble and Prowl would linger while the warrior did one of many menial tasks. They spoke, mostly teasing each other for previous games, then for maneuvers out on the battlefield. Sideswipe became a good source for feeling out the morale of some of the quieter troops, like Bluestreak and Tracks, who, despite their rather vociferous personalities, never really voiced their opinion on the status of the war.

It took a while for Prowl to peel away the protective layers of the warrior's spark.

"Sideswipe."

The red warrior looked up, his mouth set in a frown. "What?"

"How did your spark become twinned?"

Sometimes when asked for one spark, Vector Sigma would instead give two. It happened so rarely, Prowl was surprised he hadn't found any mention of the Toughlines in any database.

Sideswipe stared ahead, his frown deepening. Prowl turned to leave, certain the secretive twin wouldn't be willing to divulge such personal information, especially when it involved his brother.

"We weren't…"

Prowl paused to look back. "We weren't twinned." His optics brightened and narrowed. "We were split. They were trying to make more units at a faster, more cost-effective rate." Sideswipe paused, his optics focused on distant, by all appearances, unpleasant, memories. "They decided the method was neither quicker, nor cheaper." His gaze dropped to the hand he flexed before him. "They decided the results were unstable," Sideswipe snapped the last word out, his dental plates clicking together.

"You were told this?" Prowl asked, surprised.

"Like we weren't even there," Sideswipe growled.

The tactician frowned, following what he knew of the twins to its logical conclusion. "What did you do?"

"Ever heard of Lab 328?"

He had, actually. "Ah, I see. Well, thank you." Prowl was aware of the warrior's gaze on him as he left.

* * *

Sideswipe wasn't quite sure what to make of Prowl's unexpected attention. It made him uncomfortable, but it was not wholly unwelcome. That surprised him. He did not hate or really like any of the officers, they were there, and told him what to do, pointed him and said 'have at it.' 

They didn't converse with him. They didn't ask to play rounds of Firestorm or Blind Core. They didn't ask him personal questions.

And he didn't answer them.

Sideswipe found the tactician entering his processor at the most unusual times. It distracted him from whatever task he was currently attending.

Time spent with Smokescreen made him wonder how Prowl would feel against him….

Where'd that come from?

He didn't… Did he?

No. He didn't.

He didn't just want to feel the joints of…

Argh, stop it!

Sideswipe glared up at the bottom of Sunstreaker's bunk. What was going on? This was Prowl , for Primus ' sake. _Prowl._ Prime would have _both_ their heads if he knew there was the smallest trace of feelings between them.

…

There weren't any feelings though right?

"Sideswipe stop banging your head against the berth."

The Enforcer next to him added a half-growled, half-muttered agreement. Smokescreen winked on optic on. A frown crossed his silver face, and his blue and white door panel twitched just the slightest. "You should be recharging, Sideswipe. Mandatory, remember."

The red twin frowned back at the other mech. It wasn't like he hadn't tried. But his shut down stalled with thoughts of Prowl. The sound of his voice reaching audios…

Sideswipe turned and kissed the blue and red mech. Anything to distract him from these disturbing thoughts.

Smokescreen shoved him away. "Sideswipe, _recharge_."

The Toughline scowled and slid off the berth instead. He tromped out of the room, earning another snarl from Sunstreaker, and also drawing one from Springer. He wandered the empty halls, aware of the cameras that traced his every move. He was certain he'd be reprimanded for it, if Red Alert didn't hunt him down. No, that would mean leaving his monitors. He wouldn't do that.

Sideswipe stopped by one of the few windows still unbarred. It looked down into what used to be a sculpted courtyard. Now, it served as one of the training areas. He leaned against the window sill, arms crossed over his chest.

The steady sound of footsteps drew him to his feet. Prowl turned a corner, heading directly for him. His doorwings angled back to mirror the irritation on his face.

"Sideswipe, you're scheduled for recharge, right now."

The warrior scowled at the other mech.

"If you don't return to your quarters and log off for the appropriate amount of time, I will be forced to reprimand you."

Sideswipe stepped up to the smaller mech, looming over him. "Then you'll have to reprimand me, _sir_."

Prowl stared up at him, arms crossed over his chestplate, although he didn't move back. His stern lips turned down. "Come to my office, Sideswipe."

The Enforcer brushed past the Toughline, his stride purposeful. Sideswipe glared after him, but followed. _Great, now you just got yourself in trouble, idiot._ That wasn't what he'd intended to do.

Sideswipe plopped into the chair in front of Prowl's desk.

"Why do you insist on testing me, Sideswipe?" Rather than sit in his chair, Prowl stood at Sideswipe's elbow.

The warrior shrugged, looking anywhere but at the tactician.

Prowl's doorwings drooped and he walked around his desk, brushing his fingers against the console. He resumed standing next to Sideswipe, though on his other side. "Sideswipe…"

The warrior looked up when the tactician trailed off. The corners of Prowl's mouth quirked as though he still argued with himself over what he wanted to say. Sideswipe realized that _before_ this strange relationship started, Prowl would always carefully school his expression to stern neutrality.

Prowl's distant optics refocused on the warrior and his lips twitched one last time. "Sideswipe'" he started again, "I believe we are creating a problem, you and I."

Sideswipe frowned then set his expression to careful neutrality. "I-" the smart retort died on his lips. "Are you saying we're going to stop?"

Prowl's doorwings shuddered. "We should stop. We need to stop."

Sideswipe stared at Prowl from under his helmet, the frown finding its way back to his face.

"But I find myself unwilling to give this up," the tactician admitted. "I find you entering my processing at unexpected times." His engine rumbled with amusement.

Sideswipe stiffened. Prowl never showed his amusement, even when a smile touched his lips.

"You have been the cause of more than one shut down of my battle computer. I cannot continue to operate like this, Sideswipe."

"So… are we going to stop?" Sideswipe paused as a thought occurred to him. "Wait, why are we talking about this here?" He stiffened, glancing in alarm at the cameras.

Prowl tilted his gaze toward one camera. "A power surge knocked the cameras offline. The circuits will repair themselves in approximately ten breems."

Sieswipe leaned toward Prowl, wondering if some imposter had taken the tactician's place. "You taking lessons from me?" he whispered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Prowl smiled, his optics glowing. "When Jazz is here, it's something he does. He hates Red Alert watching him."

"Ah, Jazz. He still stationed here?" Sideswipe leaned back to grin up at Prowl now that he didn't have to worry about suspicious optics.

Prowl's doorwings trembled in amusement. "Occasionally. Currently, he is training Bumblebee, fresh out of the academy. He will be back within the next few decacycles."

"Great, another rookie."

"You were a rookie once, as well, if you recall." Prowl replied. "I would need a sizeable amount of memory space to list your rookie mistakes. And that's without going into any details."

Sideswipe made a face at the tactician's reminder of a time when he'd crashed just as many Autobot fliers as Decepticons. Among so many other errors.

"We have, however, gone off on a tangent, and our time _is_ limited." Prowl paused, a frown of concentration on his face, "I cannot continue to work when unexpected thoughts of you interrupt me so thoroughly. Now the _logical_ conclusion would be to cease our conversations, no matter how pleasant they might be. The best solution would be reassignment, if we could convince Prime that one or the other of us would server better in another unit." Prowl tilted his head, his doorwings drooping. "Perhaps you could seek assignment with Ultra Magnus' unit. That way Sunstreaker would not be so constantly separated from Springer."

Sideswipe winced at the image of those two noisily fighting, and then making up.

Even louder.

Nearly _every single_ metacycle.

"Why can't we just continue on?"

Prowl's optics flashed and his doorwings lifted, belying the frown on his face. "You… would want to?" His doorpanels relaxed and the glow of his optics softened. "I'm relieved."

Sideswipe stood and faced the tactician. "Yeah, well, I've never been much for rules, you know." He smirked down at the black and white mech. "You on the other hand, I'm surprised you've even ran the _possibility_ through your processor."

Prowl tilted his head in a nod. "Like I said, I am loathe to give this up. I deduce that if we suddenly halt this relationship, it will only escalate the problem. " Blue optics flashed in irritation. "I cannot work like that."

"What _are _you suggesting, then?"

"I cannot think of a more delicate way to put this." Prowl's fingers brushed against the warrior's arms, running lightly up the red plating. "I'm suggesting we escalate the relationship."

Sideswipe jerked away, surprised by the intimate contact.

Prowl's fingers winced away and his arms dropped to his side. "I see. I can understand."

The red twin stared down at the tactician, as Prowl moved to take a seat. He didn't sag in defeat like so many others had when Sideswipe had brushed them to the side.

The warrior had always looked forward to Prowl's conversations. He admitted that a few pranks were pulled just for that. Smokescreen… aw slag… he was using the other tactician because he resembled Prowl. He hadn't noticed the blue and red Enforcer before Prowl.

He really did want to feel the second-in-command against him.

Primus.

"Prowl... I'm sorry, but you caught me by surprise." He cocked a grin at the black and white mech. "Try that again?"

Prowl 's chevron tilted and the Enforcer walked back over to the warrior. Prowl rested his fingers on the armored plating along Sideswipe's arms. He slid his hands up the twin's shoulders and to Sideswipe's helmet. With a gentle tug, he pulled the red twin nearer.

Lips touched, sliding along each other with a pleasant squeal. Prowl's hands slid down the warrior's chassis, light enough to barely register on Sideswipe's sensory net.

Sideswipe's own hands were anything but still. He ran light caresses along the Enforcer's frame, exploring the contours of the tactician's exterior plating.

They pulled away from each other, engines purring with contentment. They stared at one another for a brief silent moment.

"So, how exactly are we going to work this?"

Prowl pressed closer, pushing Sideswipe back into the chair. "I'll think of something." With more confidence this time, Prowl kissed Sideswipe, leaning over him. He braced his hands on the back of the chair, caging the warrior with his limbs.

Sideswipe reached up and tentatively stroked the Enforcer's tempting doorwing. The tactician's engine revved in response, inviting further exploration of the black and white appendage. The warrior took a firm grip of Prowl's doorwings and pulled the officer completely into his lap.

They explored one another frames, lingering on areas that churned a response from the other's engine, or elicited a moan from a vocalizer.

All too soon, Prowl pulled away, leaving Sideswipe panting and tingling with the vibrations of his engine.

"Time's almost up." The tactician leaned down to once more nuzzle the warrior's neck and kiss his lips.

"You were able to track the time through that?" Sideswipe gasped.

Prowl stepped away, leaning against the edge of his desk. His doorwings trembled and his engine continued its aroused purr. "If we do not wish to be caught, then I must."

Sideswipe pressed himself back into the chair, still panting and his engine nearly roaring. "And you can just stop like that?" His voice held a plaintive whine.

Prowl's optics flashed, and his hands gripped the desk with the sound of twisting metal. "Have to." He chuckled, softly. "Perhaps I should have started sooner." He straightened, and walked around his desk, sitting down. "Now, I still have to discipline you for not recharging when you're scheduled."

Sideswipe gaped at the tactician. Calculated, nearly everything he did was calculated.

The _slagger_.

Because, by Primus, he wanted more.

* * *

Author's Note: I never intended to write this, merely make allusions to it throughout the fic. Of course, there were those who asked for the beginning... and made me think about it.../wink/ The sad thing is that this only took me a week to write, and I'm still working on the next 'storyline' piece about two weeks after starting it. /sigh/ Hopefully I can finish that within the week so I can move onto the next two sections. 

Also! I would like to thank everyone who's reviewed or even just read this fic. I appreciate each and every one of you.

... Sorry for the weird first paragraph, ffnet's giving me trouble about the justification again. --;;


	14. Face Off

Face Off

* * *

The sun slid down its celestial path, leaching the world of its light. The stars sparkled above, distant suns that traced their own trail across the vast cosmos. 

They needed to return to the base.

That would mean leaving the comfort of each other's arms. Sideswipe pulled Prowl closer. There had been times, back on Cybertron, where they would be separated for several metacycles. Two decacycles should have been nothing to them.

And it was all Jazz's fault.

Thoughts of the saboteur came uninvited and tainted Sideswipe's pleasant contemplation.

He turned his mind to the mech beside him. He ran light fingers over the still form, tracing his cheek seams from dark optics to slim mandible. He smoothed his hands over Prowl's doorwings, and caressed his waist.

Their lovemaking had been as desperate as that time after they'd first awakened. Plugged into each other, they let their emotions wash over one another. Desperate to forgive and desperate to forget. Prowl had overloaded, seizing Sideswipe in the same moment. Then the tactician slipped offline.

And scared the spark out of Sideswipe.

Sideswipe had shaken and smacked Prowl, trying to get a response. He'd been ready to call Ratchet, or haul Prowl back to base when the blue optics lit up. The tactician hazily looked around, confusion evident on his face and in his vocalizer. Relieved that his lover hadn't gone permanently offline, Sideswipe coaxed Prowl back into recharge.

The poor mech was worn out, emotionally, mentally, and probably physically. This entire situation had left the tactician drained in so many ways.

Another reason to hate the saboteur.

Sideswipe's chronometer ticked away in his optical display. He sighed and gently shook Prowl online. "We need to get back, sparkles."

"Don' calll mme that," Prowl murmured drowsily.

Sideswipe smiled, embracing the tactician before helping him up. Prowl leaned heavily against Sideswipe's shoulder, shaking his systems online.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Rather not go back." A sleepy smile crossed Prowl's face as he focused on the warrior.

"Your battle computer isn't fritzing again, is it?" Sideswipe kissed the tactician, quick, affectionate pecks. He still loathed letting go.

"Battle computer's fine. Just tired." Prowl hesitated and his doorwings drooped. "And Jazz is there," he admitted.

A humorless laugh startled Prowl into looking up. "I doubt he'll be up to bothering you. Sunny 'talked' to him earlier today."

Prowl narrowed his optics and Sideswipe could almost hear him boot up the rest of the way.

"He talked me into listening to you."

Prowl smiled and nodded. "Tell him 'thank you' for me."

Sideswipe looked down at their hands, and reluctantly he let go. "Guess I'll see you back at the Ark."

The tactician stared off into the distance. He touched Sideswipe's arm, even though he still had Sideswipe's attention. Serious blue optics focused on the prankster. "I don't want Sunstreaker to get in trouble." He paused and his fingers gripped Sideswipe's arm, as though trying to draw reassurance from the warrior's presence. "I'm going to have to act the part, Sides. Primus." Prowl spat out the last word, glaring over the warrior's shoulder.

Sideswipe stiffened and his engine growled his opinion on that. "I'd rather you not have any thing to do with him." He still couldn't believe that _Jazz_ was responsible for this.

Prowl nodded, his fingers trailing down to squeeze Sideswipe's hand. "I have no choice, Sides."

The warrior scowled. "You're not seriously going to let him continue to fragging rape you."

Prowl looked up, then away, his brow ridge furrowed. "Any suggestions would be welcome."

"Uh…" Sideswipe hadn't expected to be called on so soon. "Slag. Fine. Go ahead." The warrior scowled his continued displeasure.

Prowl jabbed a finger at Sideswipe's chest. "Don't interfere.. Don't even make an appearance." He reached up to kiss the tall warrior. "Would you be able to sneak into my quarters again?

"Yeah. I can do that. When?"

"Before the day cycle starts. If I am in recharge, then shake me online. Until then, consider the problem. You and Jazz process in similar ways."

Sideswipe opened his mouth to object, then shut it at the 'Don't even try' look Prowl shot him.

They stared at each other, loathe to part ways.

Finally Prowl brushed Sideswipe's cheek with his fingertips. "I love you."

Sideswipe caught his hand to place a kiss on his knuckles. "I'm still mad that you didn't tell me, but I love you too."

Sideswipe released his lover's hand and watched the Datsun leave. He flopped onto his back, relief wending its way through his mind.

* * *

Prowl soared over the road, his spark and processor as light as air. He ran through his plan again, affirming the likelihood of success. He may not be able to predict Jazz's response, but he knew what Optimus would do with a 88.34 accuracy. 

The short recharge with Sideswipe, specifically _in_ Sideswipe's arms, revitalized him in ways he hadn't thought possible. The weight of worry lifted with the knowledge that Sideswipe had forgiven him. He felt very unlike himself, driving at unreasonable speeds, wanting nothing more than to shout to the stars.

The last time he'd felt so illogically joyous, had been back on Cybertron, a long, long time ago. That first time after he and Sideswipe had plugged into each other and delved into one another's memories, their emotions. It was intoxicating as high grade.

He leapt to his feet and promptly smoothed away the smile on his face. He strode into the command center and straight up to Optimus.

"Have you seen Jazz?" He lifted his brow ridge and widened his optics.

Optimus turned, his own optics widening. "He's in the med bay. Where have you been?"

Prowl composed himself. "He was supposed to meet me several cycles ago. Why is he in the med bay?" He kept his doorwings held tensely up.

"Meet?" Prime's optics narrowed. "Didn't I ask you-"

"I cannot give Jazz the attention he deserves here, Prime. My duties are too distracting." He stopped and allowed Prime to make his move.

The Autobot Commander didn't disappoint. "This is the first time, either of you have mentioned it as a problem. It's been two decacycles since my request.

Prowl drooped a little. "We've been unhappy this whole time, surely you've noticed."

"Yes, actually, I have."

The tactician shifted, edging toward the doorway. "Why is he in medical?"

Prime's optics blazed. "He was attacked."

Prowl tensed. "Really?" He threw all the concern he could into his voice. "I'm assuming it was a Decepticon?"

"He collapsed before he could answer." Optimus gently pushed Prowl toward the door. "I'm sure you're worried about him. Ratchet says he's online. Let's go talk to him and find out."

The two mechs walked in companionable silence, Prime's large, brightly colored bulk moved easily around the smaller black and white mech. Then Optimus spoke, his tone soft. "Does it really disturb you to be here?"

"Yes," Prowl replied.

"I see." Prowl heard the apology, even though it wasn't said. And it hurt Prowl to know how he abused Prime's trust. But Prowl found the pain durable for the spark the red twin had ignited so long ago.

The med bay doors opened to admit them. Ratchet glanced up and closed up the torso panel he worked on. He circled the table as the other two officers approached. His gaze shifted from Prime to Prowl.

"I was wondering how long it'd take for you to get here." The medic's optics turned to Prime.

Optimus moved around Ratchet and touched Jazz's tireless shoulder, "Are you okay there, Jazz?"

The saboteur laughed and winced. "I'll be all righ', once Ratch let's me outta here."

"That's not happening until the day cycle begins, Jazz," Ratchet grumped.

Prowl swept in and lay a hand on the Porsche's chestplate. "Jazz you need to rest and allow your internal repairs to run."

The saboteur stared at the tactician, jaw slowly loosening. He snapped his mouth closed and frowned at Prowl.

"Is there something wrong, Jazz? Prowl?" Optimus suddenly asked.

The two black and white mechs stared at one another a moment longer before Prowl finally spoke. "I was worried when you didn't make the rendezvous." His optics never left the visor before him, completely ignoring the other two mechs in the room.

"The…" Jazz trailed off and air hissed out of his vents. He knew, then, where Prowl had disappeared to. The saboteur pressed his lips together and his body shifted into a tense stillness. "Well, I'm sorry Prowlie. It completely slipped my processor. Guess Sunstreaker must'a completely beat it out of me."

Optimus' voice boomed out, interrupting their staring contest. "Sunstreaker? Sunstreaker did this?

"Ayup. Jus' like he shredded Prowl a couple'a decacycles ago."

Prowl held himself still to keep from reacting to Jazz's statement.

"Prowl, is this true?" Optimus and Ratchet turned to face the tactician.

"No," Prowl said, keeping his voice on a neutral tone. "Jazz is mistaken. It was Dragstrip who assaulted me."

Optimus crossed his arms over his chest. "Is there something going on that I should know about."

"No."

"Yes."

Prowl slid a glare toward the saboteur. "Our personal affairs are not Prime's business."

Jazz scowled back. "He might disagree with that."

Prime looked between the two uncertainly.

Prowl stiffened, doorwings rising. Jazz smirked knowingly.

"Prowl's interfacing wi' Sideswipe. That's prob'ly what he was doing when I was attacked."

Silence filled the void after Jazz's words.

Prowl clenched his fist, glaring at Jazz. He managed a tight, incredulous smile for Optimus and then he threw his head back and laughed. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard in awhile Jazz." Prowl had been planning a confrontation like this for vorn upon vorn. Longer than the saboteur could likely guess. "_Sideswipe_? What would make you think Sideswipe and I could spend more than three breems in a room together, much less alone and in an intimate situation?"

Jazz's scowl deepened.

Prowl removed his hand from Jazz's chest and narrowed his optics at the saboteur. This was also in one of the infinite scenarios he had predicted and planned for, weighing Jazz's chaotic reactions, in an attempt to find a solution to his problem. "You are being petty and jealous of the time I have to spend correcting the _twins'_ actions." His doorwings lowered. "It simply astounds me that you would drag Optimus into our … spat."

Jazz's visor winked off for a brief second, and his frown faded to surprise. Whatever the saboteur might have expected Prowl to do, this had apparently not been it. It gave the tactician some small sense of satisfaction to throw Jazz off.

Prime regarded his second-in-command in silence for a few moments. Air sighed out of his vents and he looked to Jazz. "Do you have any proof, Jazz?"

Ratchet, who had been unusually quiet up to that point, spoke up before the Porsche could open his mouth. "You're not serious, Prime? This is Prowl we're talking about. And _Sideswipe_ of all mechs." Ratchet reconsidered his words. "This is Prowl _with_ Sideswipe we're talking about."

Prime glanced at Ratchet. "Are you going to retract that accusation, Jazz?"

Jazz looked at Prime and Ratchet and then scowled at Prowl. "No."

"Do you have any proof?"

The saboteur opened his mouth and then shut it with a click. "No, Prime."

"I see." He regarded his officers and sighed again. "Prowl, when you are done here, I'd like to see you in my office."

Prowl's doorwings drooped. "Yes, Prime."

Optimus nodded and trudged out of the med bay. Ratchet glared at the two black and white mechs. "Two breems, and you'd better not be here when I come out."

"One breem will suffice, Ratchet. Jazz needs his rest." Prowl frowned down at the saboteur.

Ratchet shrugged and disappeared into his office.

The two mechs regarded one another, both aware of the camera that caught their every move and listened for their conversation.

"I need a kiss t' get better, Prowl," Jazz's smile twisted into a barely perceptible sneer.

The tactician leaned away, his doorwings sweeping back to emphasize his distaste. "You_need_ to _rest_, Jazz."

Jazz hooked his fingers into the joint between Prowl's chest and his neck cables, and pulled the tactician down. "Y'know, I love ya."

Prowl's doorwings drew back farther. "You have a very _peculiar_ way of showing it."

Jazz's voice dropped to a bare whisper. "How can I compete with your other love?"

Prowl resisted Jazz's weakened attempts to pull him closer, his arms braced on the gurney. "Jazz, there is no competition. There has _never_ _been_ any competition." Prowl broke away from Jazz's grasp and turned away from the saboteur's bereft hand.

"Yer gonna punish Sunny, though, right?"

Prowl paused, resisting the urge to cast one last glare at the meddling saboteur. He continued of the medbay and headed straight for Prime's office.

He ran scenario after scenario through his battle computer. Sixty-four percent of them came back that, without Jazz willing to put forth further evidence, such as admitting he's been lying to Prime this past metacycle, protocol would dictate for Prime to disregard the accusation. Innocent until proven guilty would be his savior, it was the Autobot way.

Optimus looked up when Prowl entered. He held a datapad in his hands. Prowl recognized it as one he'd given his commander a long, long time ago, when Prime had fallen into a deep depression over the state of his troops, the planet, the energon crisis, everything. Prowl had compiled a list of quotes and catergorized them, in his perversely ordered fashion. It was a list he himself looked at to remember why they fought. Although Prowl had organized them for Prime, they'd initially been a gift from Sideswipe. Something Prime did not need to know.

He knew Optimus only looked at the list to find comfort in the empowering words.

Prowl had shaken Prime's confidence.

And it hurt to know that.

Prowl stood before Prime's desk, palms slapped to his thighs to keep his fingers from curling. His doorwings stood rigid behind him as he stood at attention.

Prime sighed, letting the datapad fall from his fingers. "Why would Jazz think that, Prowl?"

Prowl didn't dare relax his posture. "I don't know."

"You don't act like a lovestruck sparkling, Prowl." The two mechs regarded each other coolly.

"I'm hardly a sparkling, Prime."

Optimus leaned forward, hands clasped on the desk before him. "You weren't really worried about Jazz." The accusation lay just below Prime's statement.

Prowl's doorwings shifted. "Jazz is capable of taking care of himself. I normally don't _have_ to worry about him. I value that."

"This is a serious accusation that Jazz has made, Prowl…"

"He has given no proof."

Prime turned his head slightly, eying the tactician. "No, he hasn't and you are innocent until proven guilty. Since there is no proof, I cannot pursue it."

Prowl held himself against relaxing, aware of Prime's continued scrutiny.

"Is there _anything_ you want to tell me, Prowl?"

"No, Prime."

"I see." Optimus reached over and plucked another datapad off one of the teetering piles on his desk. "I've received a communiqué from Ultra Magnus. He's currently coordinating a strategy to send reinforcements over the spacebridge, as well as building materials for Grapple and Hoist's project."

"Reinforcements would be welcome," Prowl replied, accepting the datapad from Prime, his stance relaxing into business as usual. Prime would allow him to arrange punishment detail for Sunstreaker, as usual. That suited the tactician just fine.

* * *

The continuous caress of fingers over his headlights and chevron brought Prowl online. A silhouetted form hovered over him, blue light running across his face. It was the horns that did it for Prowl, he strangled a yelp and lashed out a foot. 

The voice that cried out in reply was not the jovial visored mech's. His systems coming to full alertness, Prowl noticed the bright color of optics set in the face. Though set on a black helm, he noticed the sharp angle the horns took.

"Sideswipe?"

"Oof, yeah. I'm Sideswipe." The warrior lifted himself to his elbows. "Ow, remind me not to get you mad at me." Sideswipe rubbed his chestplate and the scratched paint and dented metal there. "Nasty kick there, Prowl."

The tactician sat up, sheepish grin in place and he reached out a hand to help his lover to his feet. "Sorry, thought you were… someone else."

The scowl showed plainly even in the shadows. "I don't suppose you've actually done that to him?" The red twin slipped onto the berth with Prowl. He wrapped his arms around Prowl's torso, drawing the tactician to his chestplate.

Prowl stiffened in his lover's arms, his doorwings wincing away from Sideswipe. He couldn't help the discomfort that crawled through his systems.

Sideswipe nuzzled against Prowl's neck and windshield, his hands trailed over the tactician's front plates.

The similarity between the arms that held him, and the ones that haunted him, set Prowl on edge. He tensed unconsciously, his hands gripping the edge of his berth. He repeated his lover's name over and over in his processor, fighting the ghost of Jazz that his sub-processors told him was there. Confusion warred with panic, the all-too familiar settings and Sideswipe's immediate visual absence activating memories of _Jazz_ in this room… touching him…

The kisses halted and the caresses stilled. The arms tightened around Prowl's waist. "What?"

Prowl stiffly patted Sideswipe's hands and pulled away from the twin's embrace. He turned to face his lover, which seemed to help his unease.

Sideswipe frowned at Prowl, his optics dimming slightly.

"I'm sorry, it's just" Prowl paused, unable to articulate the emotions that coursed through him. "I don't know," he finally admitted.

Sideswipe shifted, glancing away with a sigh. "Alright, fine. I don't suppose you managed to keep Sunny out of trouble."

"Would I let you down like that, Sideswipe?" Prowl asked in a soft voice.

"Don't know. You haven't exactly been keeping with what I expect of you lately."

Prowl cast his dim optics down and his door panels sagged. He pressed his lips together, and didn't refute the accusation. "His punishment is my decision. I will deal with him as lightly as I can. What was Sunstreaker supposed to be doing?"

"He was off duty. He was supposed to be at the party."

"What reason would Sunstreaker have to attack Jazz?"

Sideswipe, not one to be completely idle for long, stroked and caressed Prowl's white hand. "Jazz _is_ accusing Sunstreaker, then?"

"Naturally, why would he not?"

"Because he's blackmailing you," Sideswipe turned one of the wheels on Prowl's shoulder, playing his fingers into the tread of the rubber. "He's blackmailing you, and would be in just as much trouble if Optimus found it." Sideswipe's optics brightened as he continued. "He's in as deep as we are, because he has been keeping our secret, _your_ secret, for a metacycle. As far as Prime knows, he's been keeping it longer. He's an _accomplice_, knowingly withholding information when asked for it by a superior officer, in this case Prime." Sideswipe's fingers moved to Prowl's helmet, caressing down the cheek guard, along the edge and up to Prowl's auditory receiver. "I think I know what we can do, sparkles."

Prowl tilted his head, his own fingers lifting to stroke the twin's horns. "You are entirely too knowledgeable about law, _delinquent_." He lightly tugged on the horns to draw Sideswipe closer.

"I have to," Sideswipe murmured against the Datsun's lips, "if I want to stay ahead of you, _sir_."

* * *

Prowl sidled up to Jazz, trying not to be too obvious about the sidling. He didn't ponder on the logic of it; he didn't need to freeze up at that moment. He was glad Sideswipe wasn't in the room, even if the twin suggested it, he would still hate every astrosecond. Jazz sat at the console, intent on whatever played on the screen. In full view of the rec room, Prowl rested his elbows on Jazz's shoulders. 

"Jazz, I have requested that Prime allow us to enjoy this beautiful day."

The saboteur turned his gaze up to the tactician. A suspicious frown turned his lips for the briefest of astroseconds. "Didn't ya have somethin' _else_in mind?"

Prowl tilted his head, surprise widening his optics. "Can't I reschedule my duties for you?"

Jazz's visor flashed and he turned around, rising to his feet. He pressed closer to Prowl catching the tactician's shoulders and leaning in. "Why should I do anythin' for ya, Prowlie? Y' don' seem t' appreciate what I do for ya."

Prowl schooled any anger out of his face. "But I'm not asking you to do anything for me, Jazz."

The light behind Jazz's visor dimmed, like the narrowing of optics. "I thought y' were gonna be spendin' more time disciplinin' th' twins," he hissed.

Prowl's doorwings drew back, even as he pressed his impassive lips against the saboteur's own. "Now why would I want to do that when you need my attention, too?"

Jazz leaned away to stare at Prowl. The saboteur's normal jovial grin was nowhere to be found. His visor darkened even further and he pulled Prowl into a kiss. Never mind that the entire room pretended not to watch the two officers. Never mind that Prowl hated any public display. Jazz gripped Prowl's upper shoulder struts, his lips questing for an answer, a response.

"_Kiss me back, Prowl._"

Prowl forced his hands to uncurl at his sides. "_Jazz, please, not here._"

"_Kiss me _back_, Prowl. Like y'mean it."_

Optics watched, though they pretended not to. Prowl found himself in the same quandary he'd tried to place Jazz in. Having solicited Jazz's time and attention in front of everyone, it would seem as peculiar for him not to respond as it would for Jazz to have refused.

Prowl's doorwings drew back, even as he leaned into the kiss. His systems churned as he moved his lips against the saboteur's. He couldn't bring himself to touch the Porsche.

"_C'mon, Prowl, I know y' can do better than that_." Jazz released Prowl's shoulder struts and wrapped one arm around the tactician. His other hand delved into Prowl's doorwing joint, eliciting a protesting whine from Prowl's vocalizer. The Porsche moaned in reply, pulling the tactician closer and digging his fingers painfully deeper. "I dunno if I wanna wait till we get outside, Prowlie," Jazz murmured against Prowl's lips, his engine purring, "I don' think I can make it t' either 'a our quarters."

Prowl stiffened, wincing at the assault on his door hinges. The plan would never work if he couldn't draw the saboteur out of the Ark. Jazz bent Prowl's head back, deepening the kiss. The black and white saboteur vibrated against the tactician's chassis.

Prowl shifted, grasping Jazz's elbows as he attempted to squirm away from the black hands. He couldn't simply shove the saboteur away, not without looking suspicious. Why, oh why did Jazz have to be so aggressive now? In front of everybody? Jazz tightened his grip on Prowl, sending sharp pain into the tactician's side from his probing fingers.

"Can't you two take it to one of your rooms? Why do you have to subject us to this?" Gears grumbled, accompanied by murmured 'yeahs' from those around him. The minibot glanced up from the datareader in his hands, mouth set in his normal disagreeable frown.

Jazz pulled away, cycling air rapidly through his ventilators. He still clung to Prowl, though he smirked at their audience. "Aw, sorry. Ya'll know how I can be. Prowlie," and his fingers twitched, scraping wiring and circuitry in the Datsun's sides, "jes' makes me forget myself." His hand withdrew, teasing as it went.

Before the Porsche could grab hold of the Datsun, Prowl slipped his arms over Jazz's shoulder. He leaned back, tilting his head so that he looked up at the jovial mech from under his chevron with a pout. It made him feel odd, having to act like a spoiled sparkling. If he wanted to get the result he desired though, he knew he'd have to play on Jazz's weakness.

"I'd rather go outside and enjoy this beautiful day."

Jazz's fingers twitched where they rested on Prowl's hips. He pulled his mouth to one side. "How can I say no, when yer lookin' at me with those big baby blues." The saboteur pressed another devouring kiss over Prowl's mouth, jabbing his fingers deep into Prowl's sides.

Prowl cycled air, trying to shake the unwanted feel of _Jazz_ pressing against him. The other black and white mech ducked out of the rec room. Prowl gathered himself and followed after the Porsche. A hand on his arm stopped him and he looked down in surprise at Ironhide.

"Y'know, Prowl, I think it's scraps an' rust that of all mechs on the base, Jazz's spark would seek you. Yer the only one who can make him frown like that. Ya don't even love him, do ya?"

Prowl's doorwings twitched, sending twinges into his pain receptors. A quick diagnostic revealed tears in his coolant and fuel lines. Typical. Ratchet was going to blow a fuse. "Were you interested in him?" Prowl asked, pulling his arm out of Ironhide's grasp.

"Wha-? No! I'm jus' sayin' is all."

"I see." Prowl nodded a farewell and stepped out of the rec room. He didn't see Jazz until he proceeded out of the Ark and into the noon sun.

Jazz and Mirage bantered lightly over a datapad, poking and jostling each other. Trust Jazz to bring out the best in the normally reclusive spy. The saboteur treated his small team with all the kindness and openness Prowl had observed in many fleshling creators on this planet. Why, then, did he see fit to torment Prowl?

A hand tugging on his doorwing drew Prowl back to the present. "So, we're outside Prowlie. I don' think you had here in mind, didja?"

Prowl transformed. "No, I did not." He pulled away from the saboteur, listening to the click and whines of the Porsche's transformation.

The tactician drew Jazz farther away from the Ark. Trees lined the road away from the ship, obscuring the massive craft from sight. Reds and gold decorated the leaves, announcing the arrival of autumn.

He sought a particular path that he turned down as soon as they came upon it. Jazz kept lagging farther and farther behind, until he finally rolled to a complete stop.

Prowl stopped, turning his wheels to angle his sensors toward Jazz . "Is something wrong?"

The Porsche shifted to reverse, inching back. "Somethin' ain't right. It's too quiet." Jazz's headlights flashed. "What's goin' on Prowl?"

Prowl transformed, walking back to the Porsche. "I don't know what you're talking about, Jazz. Of course it's quiet; the local wildlife is disturbed by our presence." As he spoke, he transmitted a coded message over a secure frequency.

Jazz surged to his own feet, looking about anxiously. "That ain't- what was that?" His visored gaze turned to Prowl. "Did you just-"

Trees and branches cracked and crashed, interrupting Jazz. The Porsche looked at Prowl in alarm as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker charged out of the underbrush.

The nimble mech slid under Sunstreaker's grasp and right into Sideswipe's.

"Don't hurt him," Prowl said in his most authoritative voice.

The twins paused in wrestling the Porsche to the ground. Their briefly averted optics gave Jazz the chance to throw Sunstreaker off.

"Tell that to him," the red twin hollered, grappling the black and white mech down.

Prowl held a neutral expression as Sideswipe's piledriver smashed into the Porsche's chestplate.

"Jazz, stop struggling."

"Why?" The saboteur aimed a double kick into the red twin's torso. "So these two can finish what Sunstreaker started two days ago?" Jazz shoved himself to his feet, ready to take off.

Sunstreaker plowed into the saboteur, knocking him back to the packed earth in a flurry of leaves. Black, white and gold flashed in a whirling mass of grunts and pained cries. Then crimson joined in the fray, and metal crashed and pounded together.

Prowl waited patiently, wincing internally as he visualized the damage being caused. His doorwings drooped and flared off his shoulders as he so desperately wanted to step in and help, but he stood his ground. He respected, and loved, Sideswipe too much to interfere with him in this.

Sideswipe had asked Prowl to let him handle it, and Prowl agreed to.

He had not expected Sunstreaker's involvement, but he should have known that the golden Lamborghini would never allow his brother to face this alone.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped.

Sunstreaker dragged a quiescent Jazz to his feet, hauling him up with his arms locked behind his back.

Prowl frowned as the saboteur moaned, shaking his head in a daze. His blue optics sought out Sideswipe's, but he said nothing. If this was to work, they would need to portray a united front. The red twin circled the damaged saboteur, like a turbohawk on a wreck.

"Jazz, are you functioning?"

"Nno thanks t' yer," Jazz groaned, his systems surging audibly, "mmbodyguardss."

Sideswipe paused, reaching out to shove the Porsche's shoulder. "What did you expect? 'Oh, hey he's raping Prowl, well we're all Autobots, so it's okay!'" Sideswipe's cheerful mien dropped instantly. "I don't fragging think so."

"I _was_ hopin' we could talk it out." Despite the obvious pain he was in and the sagging of damaged parts, Jazz still managed a smile for the Lamborghini. "It ain't like it's my fault _your_ lover didn't tell you nothin' 'bout what was goin' on."

Prowl stepped forward before Sideswipe could react; the set of his jaw and the tightness of his hands promised nothing gentle for the saboteur. "That is between Sideswipe and myself, and doesn't involve you."

Jazz laughed, pained static filled his vocalizer. "It doesn't, eh? Then why are ya makin' such a big deal outta it?" The visor turned toward Sideswipe. "It's not like Prowl ever really said 'stop.'"

Sideswipe jerked away from Prowl. "Because _you_ wouldn't let him. That's an excuse a _Decepticon_ would use. Hey, you know, maybe you're _not_ Jazz, maybe you are a Decepticon. Because _Jazz_ would _never _do _this._"

Jazz quirked a grin. "How do ya know what I will an' won't do? Ya don' see nothin' I don' wantcha t' see."

Sunstreaker shook the saboteur. "He's in fragging special ops. _This_ is what he does."

"Shut up, Sunny, you're not helping here."

Prowl stepped forward, again, before the twins could dissolve into an argument. "We aren't here to discuss your motives, Jazz. We're here to discuss just what is going to happen."

Sideswipe stood next to Prowl, his presence a reassurance to the tactician's spark. The twin glanced at Prowl. "_His motives are exactly why we're here, sparkles._"

"An' why should I listen t' anythin' you have t' say." Defiant to the end, Jazz leveled a glare at the two lovers.

Prowl frowned. "_He may not know what we're saying, but he knows we're transmitting. It does not take a genius to deduce that we're arguing. We do not need to argue in front of him, Sides._"

Jazz watched them, a knowing smirk on his face. "Aw, don't let me stop ya. Go ahead an' talk. I'll be here, I ain't goin' anywhere."

Prowl laid a restraining hand on Sideswipe's arm. "_Don't. It's what he wants._"

The red twin scowled fiercely before his optics flickered briefly. He cupped Prowl's chin with his hand and caught the tactician's lips in a devouring kiss.

Prowl tensed, his doorwings trembling as Sideswipe laid claim to his mouth, crushing him against his flat red chest plate. Sideswipe slipped his fingers into the tactician's hinge crevice, fingering the joints with surprising gentleness compared to his possessive kiss. Prowl's system churned uneasily.

"_Sideswipe, if you don't stop, I will hit you._" Prowl's optics flashed, and his stance stiffened. He allowed the low growl of his engine to tell Sideswipe _just_ what he thought of _that_ action. "_We will be discussing this at a later time, Sideswipe._" If it weren't for Jazz watching, he would have laid into the warrior right then..

The Lamborghini's engine grumbled and Sideswipe tweaked a particularly sensitive sensor around Prowl's hinges. Prowl winced as the normally ticklish spot registered pain. The red twin pulled his hands away and released Prowl's lips. The tactician followed Sideswipe's blank stare to his black hands. His fingertips glowed with a pink cast. The blankness disappeared into an angry glare that turned to the saboteur.

"You just keep on hurting him," he snarled.

Jazz twitched, his lips turning down for the briefest of moments. Metal squealed. "He never said nothin'!" he yelped.

Sunstreaker's scowl gave reason to the Porsche's cry; his black fingers dented the saboteur's shoulder struts.

Sideswipe stormed over to slam a piledriver into Jazz's torso plating. "He _doesn't _say anything! He shouldn't have to!"

"He didn't make a sound in Halifax," Sunstreaker added, his optics locked with his sibling's.

Prowl remained still, patiently waiting for Sideswipe to reign in his temper.

"Halifax?" Confusion flickered in Jazz's visor. "What does that- Oh." The saboteur drooped a little. "I'd forgotten about that. You _were_ there weren't cha?"

"Yeah, well, we hadn't forgotten. Considering it was for _our_ benefit." Sideswipe took his position next to Prowl again. "I guess Sunny's right. What can we expect from someone who'll stand by and watch Starscream-" Sideswipe's vocalizer buzzed, cutting off the sentence. "Factory reject," he burst, pulling Prowl against him.

Prowl wasn't sure who Sideswipe desired to reassure, Prowl, or himself?

Jazz tilted his head. "_That_ long ago, eh Prowl?" He sighed. "I couldn't blow my cover. Prime accepted that. If I had stopped Starscream, he'd'a blown my head off, an' Iacon with it."

Sideswipe tucked Prowl's white helm under his chin. "At least Starscream has the courage to wear the right insignia."

Blue optics flickered in annoyance. "That's enough, _both_ of you." Prowl ducked out from Sideswipe's embrace. "Jazz, we are long overdue for a talk on the status of our relationship."

The saboteur frowned, his measuring glance taking in the three mechs that held him.

"Now then, this is what's going to happen…"

* * *

Author's Note: This officially ends the 'Break Off' storyline. There's still two more 'storyline' chapters to go (provided the next one doesn't split into another 7 chapter monster like this one did), and this is of course barring any 'bonus chapters' that might sneak their way out of my fingers. NaNo swiftly approaches, and I've barely begun the next 'storyline' piece. So, finishing before NaNo? Probably not. Will there be a break for NaNo? Yeah, more than likely, though I'll try to ready one or two 'bonus chapters' for the coming... dry spell. /smile/ 

Thanks go to elvenarchress for pointing out errors in my last chapter.

Edit: Thanks to Tiamat for pointing out some bad characterization.


	15. Off the Wall

Off the Wall

Time: Pre-Earth

Author's Notes: Well this was technically written before I started Nanowrimo. So I'm not really breaking the rules. But the next chapter is beckoning me for more awesome Robo!smexing. If I can get Prowl to shut up and put out. (and I have no idea why this is centered again)

WARNING! Lambo Sandwich! (also if you feel the need for a warning about PWP./smile/)

* * *

Fingers on his waist brought Prowl online. The dim light of his optics showed him Sideswipe's inactive form. He was aware of another source of blue as it drew near. Lips touched his chevron, teasing sensors designed to test wind flow and humidity with a soft gush of air. Prowl's fingers spasmed against Sideswipe's back, pleasure mixed with nervousness.

Blue optics powered on in front of him and a smile graced that silver face.

A yellow hand turned Prowl's face toward a hungry kiss. Prowl tasted energon, sweet, a high grade. That combined with the brightness of the blue optics led Prowl to one conclusion.

"You're overcharged, Sunstreaker."

The golden warrior drew the tactician away from his place next to the red twin. Sunstreaker ran his hands over Prowl's frame. Prowl tensed, his hands pressed against Sunstreaker's chassis. He leaned away from the Toughline, ready to shove the warrior away.

"So," he murmured against Prowl's neck.

Sideswipe slid closer, sandwiching the Enforcer between the two Toughlines. His fingers glided along Prowl's doorwings and he nuzzled the white audio receivers. "Please," he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent surges through Prowl's plating.

He knew of many mechs who would jump at the chance to have the golden warrior once, just once. Or to have both of the Toughline twins. The 'exotic' experience of 'being shared' was a highly sought after encounter. Prowl did not number himself among those mechs. He'd always been satisfied with his time with the red twin, and Sunstreaker did not stroke his circuits in that way. Especially after getting to know him through his twin. Sunstreaker, quite frankly, shared the feelings. "He'll dismantle me when-" Sideswipe silenced the tactician by covering Prowl's lips with his own.

"Please, Prowl," Sideswipe whispered, kissing his pleas down Prowl's cheek. "Let me share you with my brother." He lifted gazed into Prowl's optics, brow ridge lifted and hopeful. Prowl stared into that expectant face, knowing that, though it had never been asked for by the red twin, this was something Sideswipe had always wanted, a strange quirk of the twins'. He'd always found it hard to say no to the red mech in the sanctity of their private moments, especially since most of his on duty answers were negative.

Not to mention the fit that Sunstreaker would throw if he sobered right then.

Or the questions that would result when security rushed in to find out what the commotion was. And they found the second-in-command in the twins' quarters.

Said brother busied himself with Prowl's torso plating, blissfully unaware of the debate going on over his audio horns. Prowl twitched at the sensations both sets of eager hands stirred.

Prowl wasn't done with his objections yet. "I thought you were too tired." He winced as Sunstreaker found a particularly sensitive section under his plate.

"I was. Now I'm not." Sideswipe pressed closer, his optics putting the lie to his words as they glowed dim from exhaustion. Prowl understood his lover's weariness. They both had gotten off from an extended set of triple shifts: Sideswipe from guard duty and patrol, and Prowl from patrol and tactical meetings.

"You realize you're taking unfair advantage of your brother's inebriation." He was still determined to win this.

"And?" Dental plates nibbled along Prowl's doorwings.

The tactician shuddered, incapable of holding still any longer under the double assault. Unable to reach Sideswipe past his doorwings, he grabbed at Sunstreaker's horns, denting the black edging. A moan rumbled from his engine as he curled into the amorous nibbling. His doorwings arched back when Sideswipe slid his fingers along sensitive circuits in his wing joint.

The golden warrior mumbled a two-syllable word, the 's' hissing against Prowl's torso plates. Fingers groped at exposed wires where Prowl's leg met his hip.

Sideswipe pressed closer, dragging his dental plates down each cable in the tactician's neck, one at a time. Prowl gasped, his fingers grasping at the black helm that was working its way up his chest plate.

"He thinks I'm Bluestreak," Prowl whispered harshly at his crimson lover.

The golden warrior captured Prowl's lips, pressing the tactician into the mech behind him.

"I know."

"Know what?" Sunstreaker murmured.

One of Sideswipe's hands pulled from Prowl's joint to caress down Sunstreaker's audio horn. "You know he likes to talk."

"Mmhmm."

Muffled by Sunstreaker's continued attentions, Prowl flicked his doorwing , rapping it against the red Toughline's shoulder.

Sideswipe batted the panel away, snickering. He slid down Prowl's back, avoiding the hand that snatched at him. Prowl could still feel the smile on the prankster's lips as dental plates nipped at Prowl's pelvic joint. Unlike Sunstreaker, Sideswipe knew exactly what to do for a reaction from the stoic second-in-command. Fingers dug past the cables, to stroke sensitive circuits in Prowl's inner thigh.

Prowl's mouth gaped open, and his vocalizer crackled as he shut it off against the cry that burst forth. He writhed in the twins' grasp, grabbing at both pairs of black hands. He knew that Sideswipe guided Sunstreaker's hands to more sensitive areas until he reached the doorwings, there Sunstreaker plunged his fingers into the joints and Sideswipe returned to Prowl's legs.

Three ventilators rumbled and whirred, working overtime against the heat building between the three bodies that pressed together. Prowl panted against Sunstreaker's shoulder, clutching one hand against the warrior's spoiler and the other at Sideswipe's audio horn. Sunstreaker teased his lips over Prowl's chevron, making the tactician spasm from the nips and kisses. Sideswipe swept caresses down Prowl's leg, and to the mag plates that allowed the Enforcer frictionless movement through Cybertron's streets.

Prowl scrabbled his hands over the two bodies, finding himself kissing the golden chestplate in front of him. His frame resonated with his own engine's rumble combined with the twin's purring arousal. His legs twitched and scraped against the berth from Sideswipe's attention. 

He was barely aware of the twins obliquely passing their hands over each other, almost as though by accident. He knew they would reach for the same plates, stroking their fingers together and then seeking a different spot to attend.

Sideswipe slid back up Prowl's back, to join his brother in teasing Prowl's chevron and his hand swept over Sunstreaker's to tease the tactician's door joints. Prowl turned, the readings in his HUD going red as he grabbed the red twin into a fierce kiss. The warrior scooted out from behind Prowl, digging his fingers under the vibrating chest plate and stroking the tactician's fan belt. Prowl's vision flickered and then fritzed completely as his systems locked in overload. The grinding of gears next to him told him the twins, too, had reset.

* * *

Gentle nuzzles and whispered words brought Prowl back online. He leaned toward the touch, a moan trembling past his lips. Lips that were captured in a tender kiss. His fingers reached up to caress the angular mandible, and up an audio horn… bumping along the vents…

Prowl's optics snapped on in alarm as he replayed the previous cycle's activities. Sunstreaker's optics faded online and he pulled away, a scowl marring his handsome face.

"What are you doing here?" the golden warrior growled, engine turning from an aroused purr to an annoyed grumble.

"I _was_ spending time with Sideswipe until you came in," Prowl replied, fighting down the sense of panic from being so close to such a temperamental, and powerful, mech.

"Sideswipe?" The blue sensors turned to the third set of eyes that watched with growing amusement. "You…"

"Didn't seem to mind last cycle," the incorrigible twin quipped, snuggling against Prowl's torso plating. "Sparkles, you should go, before the blackout's over." The Toughline pressed a kiss to Prowl's chestplate, still grinning.

"_You_…" Gears and dental plates ground together.

Sideswipe's optics flashed as he pulled Prowl up. "Are you saying it wasn't fun?" A grin curved over Sideswipe's face.

Sunstreaker's jaw snapped close. He glared at Prowl and looked away, scowling.

Confused, Prowl looked to the red twin.

Sideswipe ducked his head into the hall. "He has his pride." Another quick kiss was pressed against Prowl's lips. "It's clear."

Prowl paused. "You realize that we're going to have a talk about this?"

"Will it involve handcuffs and me calling you Prime?"

Prowl twitched.

Fingers brushed the tactician's hands. "Love you."

Prowl nodded. "You, too," and he ducked out of the room, hoping he wouldn't end up needing to send security to break up a fight.

He slipped past the patrols, sliding in and out of shadows as easily as Jazz. He blanched at the red and yellow paint marks that traced the twins' lovemaking.

He'd have to do something about that before he went on duty.

* * *


	16. Bond Off

Bond Off

Time: Pre-Earth

AN: So, last chapter pushed this story over 10,000 hits. Um... Yay/happy jig/. I love all'a ya!

Okami's theories on twinned sparks ahead.

* * *

Metal slid together with a frenzy of screeches and squeals. Arms and legs entwined, pressing and pulling, writhing in ecstasy. Each touch resonated through their connection. Streams of data looped from one to the other and back again, transmitting sight and sounds, touch and emotion. They cradled each other in the warm glow of their affection.

Systems hit alarm levels, toppling first one then the other into overload. They weren't sure who was first as the data loop entangled their minds so completely…

Only a bond would be more intense.

They clung to each other, cycling and panting, faces buried in the other's neck cables. Oil and ozone perfumed the corridor they lay in. Wires and loose panels cushioned their frames. But this maintenance corridor gave them the privacy they required for their affair. Wrapped in each other's arms, all the unpleasantness seemed to melt away.

Prowl wriggled as Sideswipe continued to teasingly trace his lips down Prowl's main power line. "Let me reset, Sides," he chuckled, only to moan from the Toughline's amorous fingers..

Sideswipe's engine purred and he rubbed Prowl's doorwings, enjoying the phantom fingers caressing sensors he did not possess. Prowl turned his head, nipping at Sideswipe's own neck cables, one hand reaching up to fondle the warrior's shoulder brackets.

"What was that about resetting, sparkles?" Sideswipe crooned, nuzzling his lover's chevron.

Prowl's optics flashed, only visible by the brief blue glow on his helm. The tactician pushed the Toughline to his back, his doorwings flaring out and back. He ran eager hands over Sideswipe's chassis, trailing down to his waist. He paused to absorb each moan from the red twin.

"What have I told you about calling me 'sparkles?'" He sensuously ran his hands over the open joint at the warrior's groin. Hypersensitive sensors, designed to detect the slightest shift or tremor, ignited with the light touch of the tactician's hands.

Sideswipe writhed as Prowl's lips followed his fingers, his dental plates scraping over the wires and sensors. He gripped the top edges of the black and white doorwings, twitching them as he pressed back into a jumble of cables. "Is this punishment?" he panted.

White hands caressed the mag plates at Sideswipe's ankle. "Perhaps."

Prowl's sudden absence made Sideswipe activate his optics-he hadn't even realized he'd shut them off- and lift his head.

Prowl still straddled the warrior's legs, but his dim optics made it obvious that the tactician's attention wasn't on his lover.

"What?" then his communicator crackled with Blaster's voice, calling for all troops.

The Enforcer stood, giving Sideswipe a hand up. "Duty calls."

The warrior smirked, pulling out a tube of spot paint and inspecting himself for paint scrapes. "Of course it does. After all, it's_only_ been a _metacycle_ since-"

Prowl put a finger to Sideswipe's lips. "Shh. I told you this would happen."

They finished covering the marks, then swept critical optics over their partner's body, checking for anything missed. Prowl turned to leave.

"Finish it later?"

The tactician paused to glance back. "Later," he nodded.

"Love-" but Prowl was gone.

"You," Sideswipe finished, muttering between his dental plates. He turned for another exit, picking his way through the maintenance corridor.

Thirty vorn had passed since Prowl had initiated this relationship. They met whenever possible, often times after heavy repairs, eager to reaffirm the other's presence, and to share the concern they were otherwise not allowed to express. Sideswipe made a point to pull pranks on those who annoyed his lover. He took the punishment dolled out by the stern tactician, looking forward to the laugh they would have later.

Although five hundred vorn is only the blink of a Cybertronian eye, Sideswipe found it disturbing that he could number the amount of times Prowl had verbalized his affection. He could fragging count those times on one hand.

All the times with his previous lovers, it had never really bothered him if they didn't tell him how much he meant to them. Unlike Sunstreaker who needed to hear it from Springer at least once a stellar cycle, which was a matter of some contention between them. Of course those previous times, Sideswipe could be openly affectionate with his partner for the orn. With Prowl, though, and the stigma against officer/subordinate relationships, Sideswipe found he craved more from the tactician than the happenstance contact on a cycle to cycle basis.

He wanted to hear, to feel it even when the tactician was half the base away, to know the tactician at least processed those three simple words, 'I love you.'

Gray and black streaked the skies over Iacon, painting the buildings in shadow. Sunstreaker met Sideswipe at the entrance to the base. His optics slid over the red Toughline and he scowled his disapproval.

"What?"

"You know 'what,'" the golden warrior snarled, turning to transform and fall in line.

Oh yes, Sidsewipe did know. Sunstreaker had more than let the red twin know just how he felt about the situation. But he couldn't comment on that, not here, not now. "Ultra Magnus stalled again?"

"Fragging amateurs," the vehicle's engine grumbled.

"_Sideswipe, transform and roll out," _Prowl's voice snapped over his communicator. Primus, one would think that he could be just a _little_ lenient.

The red twin transformed and squeezed in with his brother, shoving Trailbreaker to the side. The Roughrider blared his alarm at the Toughline. Sideswipe flashed his taillights at the defensive strategist. He was sure to have plenty of time considering his problem with Prowl after the battle, while he was in medical.

* * *

Prowl blinked up at Sideswipe's appearance next to his berth. The dim light gleamed off fresh paint that hid recent repairs. "What are you doing here?"

The red twin frowned, and sat on the side of the berth, against Prowl's shoulder plate. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

The tactician turned his head a little, shaking his systems online as he sat up. "I didn't say that. I'm just worried about you being found out."

"I have my ways."

Prowl shifted his doorwings, glaring at the red twin. "I'm certain of that." He pulled his knees up to his bumper and draped his forearms over the joint. "Again I ask, what are you doing here?" He took the sting out of his question by leaning over to place a quick peck on the red twin's cheek.

Sideswipe's mouth turned down in a glower, though his optics turned to the spotless floor. He sat there silently for a breem, his fingers rapping a rhythm less beat against his leg."If… It's…" Sideswipe paused, suddenly uncertain how to proceed. What he wanted was a commitment, perhaps more than Prowl was willing to give. Yet Sideswipe wanted to be able to look inside his own spark and _know_ Prowl thought of him. _Know_ the tactician loved him. The same way he _knew_ with Sunstreaker. "I know we promised to make no promises, but I just…" He looked up at the patiently waiting tactician. "I want to know that you'll always be there, waiting for me."

A white hand rested against Sideswipe's cheek. "I'm here, Sides. I don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon."

"Well… yeah… but…"

Prowl leaned in to kiss Sideswipe. "But what?"

Sideswipe caught Prowl's fingers, rubbing his cheek against them. "I _don't_ know that, Prowl. And I want to. I want to bond with you."

Prowl withdrew his hand, his optics dim. "It could cost us everything. Bonds are unpredictable. It may take us longer than expected to adjust and we won't be able to be separated during that time. We are sure to be found out."

The red warrior huffed a sigh and curled toward his lover. He really couldn't argue with that. Their whole relationship depended on secrecy.

The tactician tenderly stroked the black helm, the rumble of his engine soothing to Sideswipe's sensors. "What's wrong, Sides? This is unexpected." The white fingers playfully rapped against Sideswipe's helm. "I'd almost think you were turning into Sunstreaker."

"Primus forbid that." The red twin let Prowl tug him against his chest plate. Knowing hands caressed sensitive seams, seeking to placate the warrior. "But I think I know why he does it." Sideswipe wrapped an arm around Prowl's waist, pulling the tactician closer.

Prowl's fingers stilled, and Sideswipe looked up. "Your brother's actions have always confused me." It was the closest Prowl would come to asking for an explanation of the golden twin's ways.

Sideswipe shifted, laying down and pulling Prowl with him. Prowl slipped an arm around the red twin's shoulders and drew Sideswipe close, one of his black horns on Prowl's shoulder plate. "It's weird being so close to someone, almost as close as with Sunny, and not _knowing_ anything."

Prowl stroked Sideswipe's shoulder plate. "Even _you_ don't seem to understand all your brother's processes."

"Well, even we have things we don't talk about."

Prowl was silent for a few breems, although his fingers never stilled. Finally with a shriek of metal, Prowl slid on top of Sideswipe. The berth creaked at the shifting in weight. His lips played down Sideswipe's cheek, his gaze never leaving the warrior's. "Can you count the things that can go wrong? And expose us both?"

Sideswipe brushed his fingers over the tactician's arm. "Ask me if I want to."

A knowing smile briefly graced the Enforcer's face. "Is this the same attitude that gets you in trouble cycle after cycle?" Prowl's voice was a soft murmur against Sideswipe's faceplate, his lips squeaking and squealing along the cheek seam.

The Toughline's engine revved to life. "Yes. But sometimes you have to accept the risks and act anyways." The warrior's optics sparkled. "You do it every day, so don't tell me otherwise."

Prowl rocked Sideswipe with a playful thrust. "I wouldn't have, but I base my decisions on numbers that are the most favorable to success."

"And this isn't?"

Prowl optics darkened completely. "No."

"Can't you accept that life is full of risks, and you'll never know unless you try?"

"Sides it's not always that simple. You can't always function with programs half-coded, and systems half-torqued-"

Sideswipe slammed a fist onto the berth, shocking the tactician into silence. "You're acting like it's the worst thing that could happen. Don't you _want_ to?"

Prowl sat up, still straddling the warrior. "If it were that simple, but-"

Sideswipe gripped the tactician's forearm. "It's as simple as 'yes' or 'no'. Decide and act. It's that easy."

Prowl's optics widened, his doorwings sweeping back. "Do you even think about the-"

Sideswipe couldn't take it anymore, he pulled the Enforcer down into a fierce kiss. He didn't want the tactician to think, he just wanted Prowl to let go of his reservations and _do._ Prowl's engine growled and his fist slammed a few impressive dents into Sideswipe's chassis.

The warrior released the tactician, pressing his forehead against Prowl's chevron. Prowl snarled something incoherent and jerked away, but Sideswipe used his momentum to roll the Enforcer to his back. He slapped the smaller mech's arms down so that the white fists clenched by his audio receivers. Prowl's optics flashed and he strained against the red twin. "Sideswipe, _get off._"

Sideswipe pressed another kiss to Prowl's lips, pressing firmly against the malleable metal that made up the tactician's faceplate. "Can't you think of even one good thing that'll come out of a bond? Just _one_, Prowl."

Prowl didn't cease his struggles. "I never said I couldn't, but the risks-"

"Slag them," the twin's whispered growl puffed along Prowl's cheek guard. "Slag it all, Prowl. "

The black and white mech stared up at his lover, his doorwings scraping against the berth in a final protest to the warrior's treatment. "If you keep talking like that, my battle computer will crash."

"Then turn it off!"

Prowl paused, easing his arms out of Sideswipe's grip. "That would appeal to you, wouldn't it?"

Sideswipe leaned down, cheeky grin in place, to nuzzle Prowl's chevron. "I want to be able to immortalize you making a fool of yourself, yes." The red twin's optics brightened as he shifted to stroke the black and white mech.

Silence fell, except for the sound of their caresses, and rubbing bodies. Prowl suddenly shoved Sideswipe over, climbing on top of the red mech. His doorwings swept back, inviting Sideswipe's eager hands to stroke them, and fondle the inner joints.

"Wouldn't it be nice to know what the other's feeling, maybe even thinking, at any given cycle." A grin spread on the warrior's cheek and he rubbed his cheekguard against Prowl's arm. "Wouldn't it be nice to know I'm alive and safe on the battlefield, especially after I crash land a Seeker in a crevice?"

Prowl stroked Sideswipe's helmet. "_That_ would truly ease my processor." A chuckle rumbled through his engine. "You seem to be more and more prone to doing that lately."

"Yeah, well, Cybertron's getting more crevices."

The black and white mech's optics dimmed. "Have you thought about what will happen if one of us is terminated in a battle?"

Sideswipe turned his face away. "I try not to, but, if it happens, will it matters if anyone finds out?" They both knew that Prowl referred to the likelihood of the red twin dying more so than himself. The tactician rarely allowed himself to be as exposed as the twins, especially during their bouts of jet judo.

Prowl thoughtfully gazed down at the warrior. "I've actually researched quite a bit on bonds, trying to understand your relationship with Sunstreaker. While doing so, I've run across quite a few things that can go wrong. Judging from that list, I _could_ anticipate problems and prefabricate excuses that would allow us to be together and overcome them. At least on the base. In battle, there will be diversions aplenty that I _could_ adjust our two tactics to keep us close together."

A grin lit Sideswipe's face as brightly as his optics. "Is that a yes?"

Prowl kissed the red warrior's nose ridge. "Yes."

Sideswipe pulled the tactician down into a grateful kiss. Wandering hands and enticing moans soon changed that kiss into something more passionate, more needing. Power was redirected toward their laser cores, prepping their sparks for brief separation, and –what could be fatal- exposure to the air. They pressed against each other, access panels sliding back and presenting data ports and cables.

Sideswipe stared into Prowl's optics as the tactician resolutely plugged himself into the warrior. His own fingers caressed the waiting end of the unused cable. He did not question whether he wanted this or not. He wanted this more than anything else. The relationship that had started out as a casual interface, had grown to mean more to Sideswipe than anything else, short of Sunstreaker. He longed for this more than he'd ever wanted to share Prowl with his brother.

But he couldn't stop his fingers from shaking.

Prowl, the one who'd originally objected to the whole thing, took hold of Sideswipe's hand, closing his fingers around the plug, and pulled the cable out. "There's no turning back, Sideswipe. If you have any doubts…"

Sideswipe finished the connection himself. "I have no doubts."

Systems booted up, calibrating between the two processors. Data ticked in their HUDs, synchronizing streams and feedback, establishing the connection. Prowl's fingers gripped Sideswipe's shoulder plate, twitching as information finally crossed the link. Sideswipe's fingers on Prowl, suddenly merged with Prowl gripping Sideswipe's shoulder. Lips traced along a jawline, but Sideswipe didn't know if that was Prowl's face or his own before his optics.

Prowl halted some of the datastreams, redirecting the programming.

Clasps unlatched and the tactician rose so that his chest plate was level with Sideswipe optics.

A command crossed the connection and Sideswipe felt his own chest plate loosen and open. The black bumper in front of him slid upward, exposing a pulsing beacon of light within the spiral shell of the laser core.

Systems heated, reaching alarm levels as the two mechs pushed their sparks together. Sideswipe panted, rising to his elbows to leverage his chestplate against Prowl's torso. Circuits tingled as the two lights brushed fields, still not quite coming in contact. He tingled all over, indescribable sensations curling in his processor, crawling throughout his frame. All centered on those pulsing lights that pushed and pressed against each other, drawing longing moans from two vocalizers Sideswipe threw his head back, cycling harshly to cool overclocked systems. He felt Prowl as a distant murmur in his processor, something he caressed, like the light before him.

He was Sideswipe, in body, arm wrapped around Prowl's waist, pulling the tactician closer. Optics focused on the nearly hidden face of the black and white mech.

He was Sideswipe in mind, his processor looping and spiraling in a wild rush with the tactician. Patterns fluctuated in time with the open laser core.

He was Sideswipe in spirit, spark reaching and pulsing toward that other soul. The other bright light that beckoned; so familiar, so desired.

The sparks pulsed, sending out questing tendrils of light. They repulsed, pressing back into their bodies like magnets of similar fields. They reached out again as the two mechs pressed ever closer, heedless of the pleasant tingle that had become a dull ache, and now a sharp pain that lanced through their circuits.

So close, so close, but they still hadn't touch, still hadn't mingled. Prowl's fingers on Sideswipe's shoulder, Sideswipe's arm around Prowl waist, both tightened forcing their open chests together, forcing the exposed sparks closer.

Mouths agape, air rushing through their ventilators, the sparks touched for the briefest of astroseconds.

Two voices cried out together, as pain, pain, horrible pain shot through them. Shrieked in their sparks. Shorted out their systems.

Like some horrid twist on an overload they collapsed, pushed away by their very essence. Red lit their HUDs, and systems reset, internal repairs already setting to work to sort out the multitude of shorts. Self-diagnostics kicked in, categorizing the damage.

The two mechs stared at one another in a daze, unsure of what to make of it. Both knew of the other's ache, their interface rebooting and recalibrating. Prowl slid closer, and shakily disconnected himself from Sideswipe, shuddering as his systems objected to the sudden loss of data. Sideswipe closed out the interface program, pulling his own cord free of Prowl.

They lay there for another breem, shaken by what had happened, and unwilling to explore. To see if it worked.

Sideswipe ran another system check, changing the parameters to search for foreign code. The search came up with multiple results. All of them Sunstreaker. Sideswipe shuttered his optics and ran another diagnostic. And another. And _another_.

No sign of coding that could have come from any source but Sunstreaker.

And the results from Sunstreaker worried the red twin, as the pattern reflected injury or pain.

"It didn't work," Prowl murmured. He groaned, hands crossed just under his bumper.

Sideswipe winced as surges painfully swept through his systems. They seemed to resonate from his laser core. "Why?"

One doorwing shrugged. "I don't know. Unsuccessful bondings are almost as rare as spark twins. I wasn't looking for that, anyways. I was looking for successful bonds that go wrong."

They lay there, disappointed and drained, not at all one of their usual encounters. They parted, time nearly expired, both sullen at the unexpected occurrence. Prowl appeared to have slipped offline already, exhausted by the strain.

Sideswipe rounded a corner, hand braced on the wall as an overwhelming need for rest banished all other thoughts. He didn't register the other mech until he collided with the green frame.

Springer's hands on his shoulders were the only thing that kept Sideswipe from toppling over at their abrupt encounter. "Sideswipe, where the slag have you been? I've been looking-" The triplechanger paused, his optics sweeping over the red mech's frame.

Sideswipe hazily, but automatically, tried to place his location. He shouldn't be caught too close to Prowl's quarters. That would be bad, he knew, though at the moment, he couldn't quite process why.

"What the slag have you been doing? Come on, Sunny's in medical and it looks like that's where you need to be as well." The large triplechanger threw Sideswipe's arm over his shoulder and hauled the red twin toward the med bay.

"Wha's wrong wi' Sunny?" Sideswipe mumbled, his systems cycling down despite his fight to keep them up.

"He just crashed suddenly. You better not be trying to do that, too, fragger. Stay online."

"Crashed?" Why would Sunstreaker crash? Sunny never crashed, he always took care to control his speed, even when he was being hasty, inside the base. Doors hissed open in front of them and Sideswipe was aware of being taken by someone loudly snarling. The two pairs of hands laid him out on a medical berth.

"Springer, where the slag do you think you're going?"

Sideswipe blinked, dazedly gazing around the room. Already he could feel the dull ache easing away from his spark.

"I was going to finish the recharge Sunny interrupted with his screaming. Scared me out of my core."

_Sunny… Sunstreaker, where's Sunny?_ He turned his head to the side. _Oh, there he is…_

Sunstreaker lay on the berth next to him, offline, and hooked up to a series of monitors.

"I _swear_ to Primus, Springer, that if you bring in one more mech, you will be _joining_ them. Do you understand?"

Sideswipe's body seemed to finally ease, his spark no longer aching.

Sunstreaker activated his optics and stared at his brother. A searching look. An unspoken question. _What happened_?

Sideswipe didn't answer, his processor slowly powering down. Sunstreaker seemed to reach his own conclusion, and a scowl marred his handsome face.

"Do you _want_ me to leave them in the hall? I _can_ do that, you know."

Sideswipe's optics powered off just in time to catch Ratchet's silhouette appearing at his berthside.

"Sides," Sunstreaker's voice hissed in his audio receiver.

Sideswipe activated his optics, blinking up at his golden twin. "Hey, are you all right?"

"I'll be better if you tell me what you were thinking."

The red twin sat up. "What are you talking about?" The pain remained as only the phantom of a memory, repaired.

Sunstreaker leaned over the medical berth, scowl in place. "I _know_ what you tried to do." Sunstreaker grabbed Sideswipe by the throat. "Did it ever occur to you to ask _me_ about it? You slagging, stupid _idiot!_"

"Sunstreaker, get your slag-sucking digits off your brother and get_back_ to your berth. I haven't released you yet." Ratchet's voice reverberated from within his office.

Sunstreaker's engine growled. "We'll talk about this later."

The golden Toughline released his brother, and stomped back over to his berth. Sideswipe rubbed at his dented neck and laid back. He ran a diagnostic, setting the parameters to search for any foreign coding.

All that was returned belonged to Sunstreaker.

Sideswipe deactivated his optics.

Disappointment churned in his fuel tanks and heated his systems.

* * *

Someone pounded at his door, loud and insistent, like the pounding in his circuits, pulsing from his spark. He supposed he should respond to the voice calling his name. Maybe he should try sitting up?

No.

That's not happening.

"Hey, Prowlie, are ya in there? "

Only one mech dared call him by that name. "Here, Jazz." Well that's what he tried to say, at least.

Primus, what was wrong with his voice. It was so soft, and full of static, and it glitched worse than a mouse.

"Hey, Prowl," Jazz was starting to sound concern, "if yer In there, I'm really sorry, but I'm gonna override th' doorlock." A chuckle reverberated through the door. "A'course, if yer not in there, y'really don' care."

Prowl shifted, dragging himself onto his side. His doorwing bent under him, but he couldn't find the strength to move past the overwhelming pain.

The door whooshed open, revealing Jazz's grinning face. "Well, it's nice t' see you chargin' late, Prowlie, but Prime wants ya to report to duty."

Prowl stared dully up at the visored mech. He should say something, he supposed. "_Hkhhhhhhiiii Djshkaashhh_."

The saboteur stepped into the room, grin fading. "Prowl?"

What was Jazz staring at? He tried to line Jazz's wide line of sight by the tilt of his head. His battle computer responded sluggishly, and only narrowed it down to somewhere along his torso. Which, considering his protruding chest, was still quite a bit. Numb fingers tapped around where they hung by his side, and he came across an opening in his torso plating, and a cable hanging free. He wasn't entirely sure if that was good or bad.

When did Jazz kneel next to the berth?

His systems belatedly logged a communication channel being used nearby. A call to medical for a ratchet. Why did Jazz need a tool? Prowl never took him for a mechanically minded mech.

Jazz's hand, shaking his shoulder, was a distant disturbance.

Not even the CMO's loud appearance jolted him out of his haze.

* * *

Whenever someone mentioned Prowl's name, Sideswipe usually tuned in. He felt a little protective of his lover, even if he couldn't show it. What Trailbreaker was saying made him stall in his tracks.

"Prowl never made it to duty today." The black Roughrider downed the drink in his hand. "Jazz found him in his quarters, shaking and only partially functioning." Trailbreaker leaned into the circle of his audience. Sideswipe had to strengthen his audio receivers to make out what the strategist was saying. "It looks like an interface gone bad, and Ratchet wants to know where the other half is. He's likely to be in as bad of a shape."

Sideswipe clenched the cube in his hands, staring into the pink fluid that he no longer wanted. Selfish. How could he be so selfish? He'd completely forgotten about Prowl.

"Would you move it Sideswipe, some of us want to refuel, too."

Sideswipe tensed at that obnoxious little voice that originated from around his elbow.

Someone must have asked a question while Gears pestered the red twin, because Trailbreaker was talking again. "I certainly don't envy Jazz. I don't think I'd want to walk in and finda mech spark fading. Even if they're a stiff piston like Prowl."

Someone shoved his waist, and energon splashed all over his chassis. He turned, almost instinctively, his fist planting neatly into Gears' helm.

"You little fragger, can't you wait just an astrosecond, or does your processor take that long to refresh.

The little minibot didn't know when to shut his trap. "I'm standing here rusting while you were starin' into space. I'm standin' here bout to keel over from energy depletion while-"

"Fragging shut your mandible," Sidsewipe snapped, pouncing on the minibot.

He took a fraction of his self loathing out on Gears before Trailbreaker waded in and pried them apart and Ironhide dragged him to the brig.

"Jus' because Prowl's outta action, don't mean ya can do as yer please."

Sideswipe hesitated, quickly wording his question to keep from sounding overly concerned, or knowledgeable. "Yeah I heard 'Breaker talking about it. Slotting idiot, caught with his interface cable out. What'd he do download a virus?" Sideswipe forced a chuckle, earning a dark glare from the old mech.

Sunstreaker sat in one of the other cells, his glower telling Sideswipe that he had not forgotten about the promised 'talking to' he'd yet to give.

"Why don' ya ask him yerself when he comes down ta chat with ya."

Sideswipe jerked to a stop, turning as the bars powered on. "Ratchet's released him?"

"Prowl's harder t' keep down than Prime. He released himself."

Ironhide probably beat Prowl on the whole 'hard to keep down' front. "I'm sure that gave Ratchet the tingles, then didn't it," Sideswipe chuckled.

Ironhide snorted and left.

"You slagging. Stupid. Idiot."

Sideswipe sat down in the corner, his head clanking against the metallic wall. "Haven't we been over this, bro. You said that last megacycle."

"It fragging bears repeating. Both you an-" Sunstreaker cut himself off. "Both of you. Did the consequences ever occur to you? We're not like everyone else," a bitterness filled the golden mech's tone, "Our sparks are split and it takes a whole spark to merge with another."

Sideswipe glared at the wall behind him. "And you know this? How?"

"Research."

The only research Sunstreaker went out of his way for, that wasn't related to his appearance, was art and telecast related.

"You tried it, didn't you? With Springer?"

Dental plates ground on the other side of the wall.

Sideswipe went through his memory files. "When did you-" He came across an older memory of inexplicably collapsing. He didn't remember screaming, but he remembered being teased that he had. All he remembered was pain, pain, horrible pain.

The same pain as when he and Prowl had tried to push their sparks together.

"You never said a word."

Systems whirred, and a sigh sounded from the other side of the wall, long and despondent. "I'd hurt you, Sides. I just… I couldn't bring myself to tell you I was that selfish."

Sideswipe drew his knees up to his chestplate, draping his wrists over his knees. He pressed his lips together, his optics dark in thought. Could he really blame Sunstreaker for wanting to join himself with Springer and know, even half the planet away, that the triplechanger was functioning, if not safe. Could he fault his brother for seeking the very reassurances that he himself had desired from Prowl? It was programming, wasn't it? The desire to meld circuits and sparks and know that even death would never separate one from the other.

The door to the brig opened, and Sideswipe rose and scooted over to the bars. Prowl glanced at Sunstreaker, but his attention focused on Sideswipe.

The lights flickered and went out.

Three sets of headlights turned on, showing that Sunstreaker also stood at the now non-existant bars. Sideswipe heard Prowl call Red Alert to check on the 'sudden' blackout.

"If my paint gets scratched trying to recapture our Decepticon guests, it's coming out of your plating, Prowl."

Light flashed off the doorwing the tactician flicked. His bland face gave nothing away even as he stepped closer to Sideswipe. "Amazingly enough, Sunstreaker, those particular cell blocks still have power. I do plan ahead. We have less than two breems." Blue optics turned to the red twin. "Sideswipe, are you all right? Ratchet was grousing about you and your brother giving him unexplained fits again. "

"It's because you both are idiots," Sunstreaker snapped, leaning against the doorframe of his open cell.

The two other mechs turned to glare at the glowering twin.

"Sunny knows what happened," Sideswipe explained. "According to him, twins, like us, can't bond."

"No. I said it takes a whole spark to bond. There were cases of twins bonding, but both had to agree to one mech." The steel blue optics leveled one of Sunstreaker's infamous warning glowers on the two. "_Don't _even _think_ about asking."

Prowl's doorwings tensed. "I couldn't imagine being bonded to you. So, I agree Sideswipe, don't even think about asking."

Sideswipe narrowed his optics at the tactician. "Would both of you shut up and stop teasing me?"

A smile touched Prowl's lips, and he rested a hand on the warrior's arm.

Sideswipe leaned in to place a kiss on the tactician's chevron. "Are you okay? Heard you scared Jazz into a stall."

"Ugh. Somebody deactivate me, please. It's better in my cell." The golden twin beat a hasty retreat into a hidden corner.

"I'm fine." Prowl glanced at the occupied cell. He pulled the red twin into his arms. "I'm sorry. I must have missed that bit in my research."

Sideswipe blinked. "What? You were considering a bond before I asked?"

"It did occur to me, yes. Although, I didn't expect you to ask first."

"You two are disgusting. I want you to know that."

Prowl smirked and he murmured loud enough for the golden twin to hear. "Your brother needs an interface."

"I can _hear_ you, you know."

Sideswipe buzzed with repressed laughter, knowing he'd get it from Sunstreaker later.


	17. Off to the Side: Bluestreak

Off to the Side: Bluestreak

Author's notes: It was commented on LJ that Bluestreak deserved a few words. Well, naturally, being Bluestreak, he rambled.This will actually take place_ after _the next storyline piece (which I'm attempting to whip into one chapter, but the muses tend to be temperamental about such things). There should be hints of what's to come... I think, I hope.

* * *

Who am I?

When you look at me, and your optics dim and you smile so softly, who do you see?

I know it's not me. For when you are looking _at _me, you never look _like_ that. And I know that before me, there's been Equinox and Smokescreen, and Alterside and Ion, each of them the same model, the same frame, as I. Is it some odd fetish you have? Much like Sunstreaker and rotary assemblies? Or Ratchet and vocal indicators? Or that old kink where mechs would pair with femmes, like Ironhide or Prime (can it really be bad, when Prime's doing it?)? Or is there some Enforcer back on Cybertron that has won your affection. A comrade lost in battle many vorn ago? A lover, a friend? Do you look at me and see him, or her, in your arms, by your side. Do you kiss their lips, caress their panels?

It is inevitable that we end up here, on Lookout Mountain. We drive around, and always our tires roll to a stop here. We transform and enjoy the view. I stay quiet, because I know you don't want to be disturbed. You stare into space, lost in your own processor.

Who are you looking for? Is it that lost love?

Or your brother?

In all the time I've known you two, I've never seen Optimus separate you for so long. Why would he do that? With most of the Decepticons on Cybertron, you are wasted here .You should be _there_ with Sunny. Why did Prime separate you? I don't understand. Ultra Magnus doesn't know your abilities like Prowl does. He doesn't know what you're capable of, not like Prowl. Prowl knows you and knows how to handle your tactics and make them fit with his own.

But Prowl and Jazz are on one of the Moonbases with your brother.

Now isn't that funny? Inevitably, when I think of you, I think about Prowl and anyone else you annoy. I wonder if you miss him? Miss annoying him? And annoying Ratchet and Ironhide?

I just can't figure out why Optimus left Ultra Magnus, who really doesn't know that much of the situation on Earth, but does know about the situation on Cybertron. I can't process any reason.

No. I'm certain that you miss Sunny. Are you seeking him through your bond? To make sure he's still alive? Do you let him know you miss him?

You must miss someone.

Now your optics turn down, and you smile that smile at me, but not _for_ me.

Who are you seeing? What colors does your imagination paint me?

I know what will come next. I should walk away, but I don't. I never do. I don't know why I take it.

You wrap me up in your arms, gathering me to you, like I'm the most precious thing on this planet.

But it's not me.

You bury your face into my neck, your dental plates scraping down my power lines. Your hands caress and stroke my doorwings, making me hiss in pleasure.

But it's not me.

Why do I do this to myself? I let you guide me into the bushes, out of sight of the city. You press me down, your touches sure and needing.

But it's not me.

You look surprised when I react at some places and not others, and I know that it's not me under your hands. Your mouth moves soundlessly against my chestplate, and if I didn't know any better I would think you whispered my nickname. But I do know better.

And it's not me.

It doesn't happen all the time. I guess that's why I keep coming back. Why I don't walk away. Because sometimes you look at _me_, and see _me_, and not the ghost of whomever you miss. Those times I treasure more than any memory of peace.. Those are the days when you know where to touch me and when your optics flash brightly and you grin at me and murmur my name. But not today.

Today, it isn't me.


	18. Play Off

Play Off

* * *

Prowl's doorwings twitched at a slight stirring in the air. He paused in the hallway, optics intent on the datapad he held in his fingers. His grip tightened on the box he held under his arm. 

"Hey there Prowlie, fancy meetin' you here."

"Jazz," Prowl returned simply. His sensors detected a soft breeze just beyond his chevron. "Are you hanging around for any particular reason?" He kept his gaze locked on the screen in front of him, re-reading his schedule for the day. He couldn't look up. He mustn't look up. He was sure that if he did, he would laugh. And then he would be obligated by duty to release the saboteur.

"Not really. Might wanna ask a certain prankster jus' why I'm bein' the center of so much 'a his fun."

Prowl flicked his doorwings dismissively, optics widening with suppressed mirth. "One would almost think someone was mad at you."

"Well, imagine that."

Prowl stepped around the Porsche hanging from the ceiling, stalling as he realized it _was_ a Porsche. 'Someone' had strung Jazz up by his axles in his _car_ mode. Prowl's engine revved with barely contained laughter.

"Hey, think y' could let me down 'fore y' go?"

Prowl didn't halt his forward motion. "Let you down from where, Jazz? I see nothing."

"Of course not." Jazz's engine belts squealed. "Slagger."

The tactician flicked his doorwings and continued on his way. He kept a tight rein on the smirk that threatened to break onto his face. There were days where he simple adored his lover.

He queried Teletraan-1 to double check the whereabouts of his destination. Reassured that his target hadn't moved, Prowl hurried his pace by a fraction. He turned into the rec room, honing in on a particular mech.

He sat with a small group of his friends, all of whom looked up in surprise when the tactician stopped at their table. Optics dimmed when they took in the case tucked under Prowl's arm. None of said friends wanted anything to do with the contents of that case, most especially when it was Prowl who was holding it.

Sideswipe pressed his lips together and turned back to the game playing on the screen.

Prowl stepped into their midst, and particularly into Sideswipe's line of sight. This action was met by groans and complaints from his friends as the Lamborghini's character died some horrible, animated death.

The red warrior frowned up at Prowl. "I'm off duty, _sir._ And I didn't hear anyone sound an alarm. I don't recall setting any pranks recently, so I see no reason for you to be standing there."

Prowl permitted himself a stiff smile. He had no doubt that the red warrior had recognized the case Prowl held. But they both needed to play their parts for the sake of their audience. They knew their roles, and, even if they never rehearsed, they knew their lines.

"Yeah Prowl, can't a mech _relax_ for a few cycles? Primus, just because _some_ of you big shots-"

Prowl slowly turned to face Bluestreak. He looked down at the gunner who occasionally occupied the warrior's berth. He felt pity for the other Datsun, for the way Sideswipe used him. "I don't suppose that you _want_ to join him in the brig for insubordination to an officer?" Prowl hitched his doorwings higher, adding to his rather diminutive height. Amusement filtered through his emotion circuits at the bolstering effects of high grade and mischevous peers on Bluestreak. Certainly even the officer was allowed to tease back for all that Sideswipe and his friends put him through normally.

Bluestreak's mouth shut and he ducked his head.

Prowl turned back to the red twin, who was pointedly trying to stare through Prowl's waist.

"If you're done harassing us, we have a game to finish." The black crowned head turned up to glare at the tactician. Sideswipe could easily move Prowl to the side, and if Prowl were anyone else, he would. Even Jazz, or Wheeljack. He'd even tried it once with Grimlock, and promptly cleared the room of every piece of whole furniture with the ensuing brawl. Sideswipe was still working off that particular debt.

"Fortunately for you, Sideswipe, I am off duty."

Once again he had everyone's attention as that was as unheard of as Sunstreaker going out of his way to help a minibot.

Sideswipe threw his hands into the air, sending the controller he held flying. It smacked onto Prowl's sloped hood and slid to the ground. "Well Primus be praised and the Matrix bless us with its Light." Sideswipe stood, grabbing one of Prowl's hands with both of his own and shaking it vigorously. "Congratulations on this auspicious occasion. I don't suppose you did so on your own initiative?" Prowl jerked his hand away even as the Lamborghini released it to pose thoughtfully, elbow cradled in one hand while a black finger tapped his chin. "No, Ratchet or Prime probably had to order it, right?" Sideswipe didn't wait for an answer, but flopped back onto the couch, scooping the controller up from the floor. He looked up, feigning surprise at seeing the tactician still standing there. "Don't you have anyone else to annoy, or are you going to stand there all day?"

Prowl gritted his dental plates, promising himself that his lover would pay for this. "You're right, Ratchet did order this time off. He said that I place too much stress on my systems and I needed relaxation before I crashed something important." Prowl bent at the waist to put his face before Sideswipe's "Seeing as you and your pranks are a large portion of my system stress, I reason that you can assist me in my relaxation."

Sideswipe's jaw loosened, before he collected himself. "What about the Decepticons? Don't _they_ get any blame for this? Why is it just _my_ fault?"

Prowl straightened, his doorwings twitching with amusement belied by the stern expression on his face. "You are welcome to invite Starscream in for high grade and a game of Firestorm."

The warrior's blue otics narrowed. He didn't even bother with an objection to that one. "You're off duty, you can't order me to do anything."

A lame excuse. Prowl was almost disappointed. "You're right. " He turned his back on the warrior and made his way to an empty table. "But the boosters are in need of cleaning."

He heard the clatter of Sideswipe leaping to his feet. "I didn't _do_ anything!"

Prowl opened the case and began setting the game up. "Granted, but that is what you _will _be doing if you don't join me." Prowl's tone turned almost genial as he courteously gestured to the empty seat across from him.

Sideswipe handed his controller over to Bluestreak, making a point to nuzzle the gunner's cheek and sweep a kiss over his chevron. Prowl's hand clenched on the piece he held as he recalled Sideswipe doing that exact thing to him. Which was the point. Prowl drew on his neutral expression, unable to trust even a triumphant smirk as his engine threatened to turn over. Prowl couldn't tear his gaze away from the mech grumpily making his way over to the table the tactician occupied.

Sideswipe slouched in his seat, one of his feet sliding against Prowl's ankle and softly tapping against the wheel well. Prowl reset swiftly, bringing himself back to the present. Sideswipe scowled briefly at the tactician, arm carelessly slung over the back of his seat. He glanced at his friends, already starting a new game. "Hey don't any of you want to see me whip Prowl's tail?"

Raucous laughter answered Sideswipe. "Yeah right, that'll be the day Sideswipe. Nice to live in your delusional world." Inferno called back, optics locked on the screen.

Sideswipe shrugged. "Looks like it's just you and me, sp-"

Prowl delivered a sharp kick to Sideswipe's extended leg.

"-spilling energon." Sideswipe lifted the empty core and filled it to the brim with high grade he pulled out of subspace. He frowned at Prowl meaningfully, _I wasn't going to say it_.

Prowl shifted into a shrug, tilting his head with a frown of his own on his face. "That's against regulations."

Sideswipe blinked innocently. "But you're off duty, _Prowlie_."

Prowl bared his dental plates in a grin. "And those boosters still need cleaning, _Siders_."

"You don't fight fair." Sideswipe tucked his chin down, pout in place. His optics, however, danced with amusement at the game. Prowl hitched his doorwings higher, ducking his head to hide his own optics, lest they betray him.

The red twin took a swig from his container and proffered it to the tactician. "You said you needed to relax."

Prowl pushed the sweet-smelling energon away. "I don't drink."

Sideswipe shrugged. "You will, if you win. I'm not letting you waste perfectly good grade." The warrior examined the board and made his first move. "And the winner gets the high grade, not the loser."

Prowl quietly watched the red twin finish moving the last of his Light Armors. "Are you saying that you will lose on purpose, then?" The tactician used this move to set his Guardian closer to the Core. He finished it off by moving two of his own Light Armors onto the second level.

"No." Sideswipe didn't hesitate, but began to shift his Seekers into a bizarre pattern that looked like an odd cross between a strafing run and a bombing run. That left him with enough moves to shift two of his guns onto the second level. He took another drink from the cube, his foot tapping lightly against Prowl's ankle.

Prowl glanced at the Seekers. He calmly moved his guns around the Guardian. "You are, if you're going to drink while we play. He swept a few of the Seeker pieces off the field, tossing them into the discard field.

"Says you."

They stopped talking , content to let their plays speak for them. Sideswipe triumphantly lifted Prowl's Guardian off the field, playfully dancing it into the slowly growing discard field. With Prowl's Guardian gone, Sideswipe's Airbarge made short work of the remaining guns and Armors to send his Seekers in to take out the three Ultra Convoys Prowl had remaining. Their odd strafing/bombing pattern gave them just the right explosion to shrapnel ratio to take out the large pieces.

"I won." Prowl sat back as Sideswipe flicked the last of the Datsun's guns onto its side. He lifted the Core, taking a sip, before sloshing the liquid inside. He grinned at Prowl and downed the rest.

The tactician watched his lover, struggling to rein in the desire that pounded in his system. Primus, even a simple kiss would send him into overload.

Sideswipe smirked knowingly, and tipped another brimming serving into the Core. His foot still rested against Prowl's ankle, slowly turning the wheel this way and that. "Maybe I should let you win next time," he murmured, barely audible above the general chatter of the room.

Prowl cleared the board with shaking fingers. "Are you saying that _I _didn't let_ you _win?" He set up for the next game, his ventilator cycling faster than normal as Sideswipe caressed the edge of his wheel well. He paused, struggling to focus and not reciprocate. Why of all times did that infuriating Lamborghini have to choose _now_ to be flirtatious? Prowl moved his foot away from the twins black toe joint, glaring at Sideswipe's smirking face.

"I'll wipe that grin off your face, delinquent," Prowl mock growled once he was certain he wouldn't purr those words.

"I bet you will, _sir_."

They started the next game, Prowl taking the offensive this time. He had a secondary reason for challenging Sideswipe to this game. "Ultra Magnus will be quite appalled that he will have to assist me in keeping you and your brother," Prowl smirked, glancing toward Bluestreak, "and your little stooges, in line."

Sideswipe's optics flashed, a mixture of surprise and even a little jealously worming its way onto his face. "Maybe I could teach Magnus a new tactic or two for Firestorm." The growl in his engine spoke of other things he wished to show the unit commander.

Prowl dimmed his optics even as he lifted his doorwings. "Ultra Magnus," Prowl paused to make sure the twin looked up at him. "will quite likely be very busy getting Autobot City prepped for occupation."

Sideswipe stared at Prowl, his inscrutable expression as dangerous as one of his brother's glowers.

Prowl leaned forward, doorwings sweeping back as he took Sideswipe's guardian off the playing field. "Springer is still assigned to his unit."

Sideswipe stiffened. "He's coming?" He looked ready to surge to his feet, to go to his brother.

"Finish the game, Sideswipe" Despite the tone, Prowl let Sideswipe know it was okay to refuse with a flick of his doorwings.

Sideswipe looked at the board, then at Prowl, and finally toward the door, the dilemma clear on his face.

"You're not on duty, Prowl." His wide optics conveyed his unspoken apologies.

Prowl tilted his head, looking at the warrior from under his chevron. "I'll see you cleaning the boosters in the morning, Sideswipe."

The red mech smirked and stood, walking out without another word. The back of his hand negligently knocked into Prowl's shoulder tire, the wheel turned, exciting Prowl's sensors. Prowl froze, his engine betraying him with its purr. Prowl worked to cool his circuits, clearing the table of the pieces and board. He had predicted quite accurately what Sideswipe's reaction to that piece of information would be.

He paused to down the energon, feeling the rush of high grade as it burned in his tanks. No need to waste it.

No matter how much Prowl meant to the Lamborghini, it didn't level with the bond shared between the twins. Prowl had tested Sideswipe's limits in that regard in the past, only to regret having hurt the Toughline. Hurt him by forcing him to choose between his lover and his brother, and ultimately Prowl hurt Sideswipe by forcing him into a retaliatory act that landed Prowl in the med bay and Sideswipe in the brig.

Prowl closed the case, and tucked it under his arm. He would put this back in his quarters. After making a show of stumbling on Jazz.

* * *

Sideswipe grinned at Ironhide, otherwise ignoring the red mech.

"Ya have a breem ter talk ter him, then I want ya out."

Sideswipe pouted at Ironhide, his attempt to sneak up on his brother inadvertently foiled by the officer. "Plenty of time."

Sunstreaker glanced away from the monitor to glare at the red twin. "What?"

Sideswipe leaned against the edge of the console, arms crossed over his chest. "I see you're still in a good mood."

"Frag off."

Sideswipe's brow ridge lifted and he fought to keep the smirk off his face. "Fine, I'll just take my news and go." You'll be big and blue later. Matter of fact, you might even be a little green with envy." As with Prowl the twins shared a secret language to convey unspoken intent with key words or looks or gestures. Unlike with Prowl, Sideswipe had never had to sit down and spell anything out with his brother. They just knew.

Sunstreaker jerked in surprise, turning to the red twin. "What?" His voice hitched and his slack jaw slurred the words.

Sideswipe widened his optics, nodding. He couldn't directly say it until the announcement was officially made. Such knowledge was one of the perks of having the second-in-command as his lover. "He's coming."

Sunstreaker's fingers twitched sporadically, betraying his nervous excitement. "You're slagging me."

Sideswipe didn't release his brother's gaze. "Heard it from a _very_ reliable source."

The golden twin's narrowed his optics. "Why did you have to tell me this _now?_ Couldn't it have waited until I got off?"

"Sideswipe," Ironhide rumbled.

"But then I couldn't tell you, cause I'd be cleaning the boosters." Sideswipe stood, grin in place.

"At least you didn't include me in whatever fun landed you with _that_ duty." Sunstreaker turned back to the monitors, his gaze flicking over the multitude of screens.

"Sideswipe…"

The warrior waved Ironhide off. "You know Prowl looks for any excuse, especially when he's in a bad mood."

"Sideswipe, get _out_."

"I'm going, I'm going. Primus."

* * *

A/N: Originally this was going to be a bit piece in a larger story. When I sat down to write it, it grew on it's own. And this would by why I love this pairing. 

Edit: Thanks to elvenarchress for pointing out the typos and grammatical errors. Thanks to both elvenarhcress and blood shifter for pointing out bit of bad characterization. Even though it's still there, hopefully it's a little more appropriate.


	19. Off the Cuff

Off the Cuff

Author's Notes: Okami is bad. Very, very bad. This is a pure kink chapter, in one form or another. There's no plot (squint your eyes really small, you might see it). And the first part is Prowl/Jazz (because Prowl needed a reason to kink out on Sideswipe). Feel free to skip that first part (just head down to the scene break), promise not to be offended. Of course according to my muse, this might be the last smut-heavy chapter. Period. Unless something else catches my fancy in between writing the storyline piece. This is also the next to the last of the 'bonus chapters'.

Time period: Post 'Turned Off' before Sunny talks to Jazz.

Second WARNING: The first scene is dub-con/non-con Jazz/Prowl. Heck I'll even warn for the bondage-kink in the second half.

Otherwise, enjoy.

* * *

Black hands smoothed their way down the white chest. A whispered name hissed out of the black and white mech's vocalizer. Doorwings twitched as fingers explored their recesses.

"Prowl..."

The tactician moved his head, unable to look into the other's face.

Lips touched the cables of his neck, sucking and pulling the wires and fuel lines

Prowl's hands rested against the other's shoulders. His ventilators hitched as he shifted in the black and white arms. "Please, don't do this."

"Why?" The question played across the tactician's cheek, fritzing his circuits like a sudden chill.

"It's not-" A whine halted Prowl, as fingers explored the space where his chest plate and torso meet. "It's not right to do this to me."

Laughter rolled over Prowl's audio and the lips pulled back. "I ain't doin' nothin' t' ya, Prowl. Tell me to stop and I will."

Prowl twisted his head further away from Jazz. "Don't act like I have a choice. Jazz, please," he snapped when the saboteur found the sensitive wires of his legs. He shuddered under the continued assault, his legs involuntarily twitching as Jazz traced a sensitive seam.

"But y' have a choice, Prowl," the jovial mech all but purred. "Tell me to stop. I promise I will." The saboteur drew Prowl's leg up, sliding it along his waist, dental plates squealing together as he moaned.

Prowl slapped his fists to his side, writhing under Jazz's sensory assault. "Don't lie."

Jazz pinched one of the lines in Prowl's neck, playful frown in place. "It ain't a lie."

The world filled with static and lost all color as Prowl's systems tried to compensate for the loss of power. "You'll tell Prime." Prowl's vocalizer hissed and buzzed as he choked out the words.

"Man, Prowlie. Y'really know how to spoil the mood." Black fingers dug into Prowl's ankle tires, threatening to break through the rubber. "Y'need ta make it up t' me."

Hating himself the entire time, Prowl worked his hands over the Porsche's frame, touching his lips to Jazz's neck. He should never have approached Jazz after turning Sideswipe down; it only seemed to encourage the saboteur. He didn't know how to make it stop, He didn't know how to tell Jazz no without having Prime discover his _other_ affair.

Logically he couldn't bring himself to blame Sideswipe for his own bad decision. He should never have accepted Jazz's help in the first place. Prime had just caught him off guard. He could have handled it.

Prowl dimmed his optics, pressing a kiss against Jazz's headlight, wishing he had the ability to replace Jazz with someone much more acceptable. He knew Sideswipe did it with Bluestreak, and even Streetwise. Prowl lacked that kind of imagination.

Jazz suddenly shifted, pressing Prowl into the berth. His lips locked onto the tactician's own. "Don't stop," he moaned when Prowl stilled for a few astroseconds. Jazz moved Prowl's fingers as the tactician listlessly stroked his armor. Guiding the white hands along sensitive spots on his body drove Jazz into a frenzy he vented on Prowl's frame; panting and nipping, digging with a free hand for a response from the other black and white mech.

It revolted Prowl. Yet his body betrayed him with an excited whine.

Jazz's systems overloaded, the light in his visor flickering. He nuzzled Prowl's cheek seam, as the tactician's turned his face away. "Why don't y' let me please ya, Prowl? That's all I wanna do. Don' y' get lonely?"

Prowl cut the power to his optics, struggling to calm his stuttering engine.

He flinched away from the touch of Jazz's fingers."

Jazz sighed and stood. "See ya at th' meetin' in the mornin'." A pause as though waiting for a response and then the sound of heavy steps and the door opening and closing.

Prowl activated his optics, staring ahead, not seeing the bare decorations of his quarters. He drew himself up, leaning against the wall, engulfed by the numb haze that always followed an overload by Jazz. He stood and collected the datapads sitting on his desk. He might as well attend to his work.

He would be getting no recharge this night, especially not here.

* * *

Sideswipe swerved toward his brother, laughing as the golden Lamborghini's engine roared, daring the other to hit. Sideswipe braked at the last minute, applying just the right pressure to keep from sliding on the wet road. He swooped behind Sunstreaker, and roared up on his other side, still laughing.

"Keep it up, bro, and I _won't_ cover for you next time."

Sideswipe's engine coughed in laughter. "At least I didn't ask you to paint yourself red."

Sunstreaker swerved this time, his headlights popping up to flash a glare. "And I told you, I'm never doing that again. Especially not with smelting Gears. At least Bluestreak would never have noticed the difference."

"Aw give Blue more credit than that. He would have noticed."

"Yeah right."

"Wanna bet."

"Absofragginglutely not!"

Sideswipe laughed again, aimlessly turning his tires. "And here's my turn off. Send my apologies to the guys. Can't keep the officer waiting."

"That was _your_ idea remember?"

Sideswipe slowed down. "Was fun though."

"Yeah it was. Slag off."

"Love ya too bro."

He pulled onto a dirt road and transformed about halfway down. He pushed past the grasping branches, until he stepped out of the trees and into a clearing.

Prowl stood there, already waiting. He stared toward Sideswipe, indicating he'd been tracking the twin beforehand with his sensors.

Sideswipe approached his lover at a cautious pace, trying to figure out what was out of place with this scene.

Prowl was quiet, giving no greeting or even a smile. He clasped his hands behind his back, his doorwings lifted high and his expression stern.

What had he done this time?

The red mech took the last few steps to close distance with the tactician. A hand on his chest brought him to an abrupt stop. Sideswipe stared at his lover in surprise.

"Prowl? What-"

"Shut up."

A frown crossed the twin's face. He reached up to touch the other's face, but Prowl knocked his hand to the side, not harshly, but stern.

"Do not. Touch. Me."

Sideswipe opened his mouth to try his question again, but stopped as he considered the tactician before him. He thought Prowl was angry, but no. Even furious Prowl never told Sideswipe to 'Shut up.'

'Be quiet' and 'Deactivate your vocalizer this astrosecond,' yes, but not 'Shut up.'

As if to confirm his suspicions the hand on his chestplate stroked down and light fingers caressed Sideswipe's headlight.

But that surge did not come from Prowl's hands.

He reached up again. "Prowl..." His vocalizer hitched when Prowl slapped an energon cuff on his wrist.

"You can't keep your hands to yourself," Prowl said as he locked Sideswipe's other wrist into the manacle, "can you?"

"What-"

Prowl jerked the cuffed hands, throwing Sideswipe off balance, and to his knees. "Or your vocalizer inactive."

Sideswipe stared up at Prowl, his jaw hanging.

Deceptively gentle fingers pushed the twin's mouth closed. "Are you trying to be bad?" the tactician's voice purred, and Sideswipe's circuits surged with another energy spike.

Thrown off balance by Prowl's unexpected actions, Sideswipe nodded.

"Oh, really?" again that surging purr. "I thought I taught you better than that."

Prowl's fingers caressed Sideswipe's cheek, and the burning surge followed.

Primus, _what was he doing?_

Prowl straightened, stepped around the warrior and drew Sideswipe against him. He slid down Sideswipe's back, metal squealing in protest, until he knelt with one knee between Sideswipe's legs and the other brushing the warrior's waist. Prowl wrapped his arms around Sideswipe's front, his hands running all over the warrior's front.

Sideswipe panted as the sensory stimulation heated his circuits. Prowl pressed harder, his forceful voice murmuring in Sideswipe's audio, sweet nothings that contrasted with his aggressive manner. Sideswipe stiffened, his optics blazing. Primus in the pits. He wanted to touch Prowl, so badly. Why didn't he take the slagging manacles off?

"Prowl-" Sideswipe's voice broke into a pleading cry. Energy surged through him, from Prowl's fingers on his waist, to the hand cupping his cheek. "What are you-" It _was_ Prowl doing it, and oh slag, it felt so good and hurt so bad.

"Keep talking you bad mech."

Prowl's hands moved down to Sideswipe's neck, and the tactician pressed his face into the cables, energy coursing between his face plate and his fingers.

Sideswipe wavered, nearly blacking out as Prowl's energy field interfered with his power lines, unable to make a sound as his entire body stalled for that brief interval.

Field manipulation! Why the slag was Prowl using that?

Sideswipe houghed as his ventilators abruptly came back online. Prowl didn't stop his tactile assault, his fingers shaking from the effects of his abnormal technique. He panted against Sideswipe's shoulder tire, still managing to arouse the warrior even further with the gentle swing of the wheel. White hands splayed on the warrior's torso, pulling him back for Prowl to rub his own abdominal plates down Sideswipe's aft. The fuel in his tanks churned as energy ran through him, following the line of Prowl's body.

A chuckle rumbled Prowl's frame, and he paused his sensory assault to whisper into Sideswipe's horn. "Call me Prime."

Sideswipe threw a defiant glare over his shoulder. "Only in your cortex!" But he couldn't help the smirk that played on his lips.

A smile touched Prowl's mouth, but it was gone as suddenly as it was there. "I told you not to talk." Prowl gripped Sideswipe's arm panels, stroking his hands down with as shriek of metal, and another burning surge.

"Y' know I don't listen," Sideswipe panted, pushing his own energy field back at the tacitician.

Prowl moved his grip to Sideswipe's groin, touching the exposed wires there.

Sideswipe doubled over, Prowl pressing against his back, his field burning through Sideswipe's legs and up his sensory net. The red mech's arms shuddered with the effort that held him up. "Prowl... Prim...us," His vocalizer glitched.

"Almost. Say it, Sideswipe," Prowl doubled the assault, adding the field of his own legs.

Prowl's hand moved up, drawing along Sideswipe's energy field and coming to rest under the Lamborghini's bumper. His fingers caressed along the seam, and the surges stuttered the warrior's engine. "Say it, Sideswipe."

"Frag off."

Sideswipe hollered, shooting upright as the energy coursed through his engine, squeezing through his spark chamber. His systems redlined, overloading in a not-so-pleasant way. "Stop!" He bucked against Prowl. "Stop! Optimus!"

He collapsed when Prowl released him. He shook and shuttered as his field reasserted itself. A hand turned his head toward the tactician's concerned face. "Are you okay?"

"Ye-e-ah. Just give me a breem. " He jerked his manacled hands out of Prowl's reach when he moved to remove the cuffs. "No. Just wait."

Prowl sat back, his expression neutral while Sideswipe panted.

"We can-"

"No!"

Prowl nodded and stood. Sideswipe lay there for a breem and then a second, letting his repair system work. He heard the rattle of chains and managed a chuckle as he realized what Prowl was doing. He didn't know what brought this mood on, but he planned to fully enjoy it. Prowl's footsteps by his head made him look up.

Prowl had mud on one knee, but not the other. The ridiculousness of the image forced a laugh out of him. Prowl tilted his head, fists on his waist, burning optics the only feature visible on the Datsun's face.

"You only have mud on one knee," he snickered, gesturing with his bound hands.

Prowl lifted a foot to examine the aberration, his doorwings flicking dismissively as he noted the clump sitting on his joint. "I'll do something about that."

Sideswipe sat up, nuzzling against Prowl's thigh. The tactician patted the black helm and then pushed him away. Prowl knelt down, purposefully placing the clean knee down, looking pointedly at his lover. It drew another laugh from Sideswipe. He drew Sideswipe against him, resting his cheek guard on the red chestplate. Fingers delved into sensitive seams, bringing Sideswipe's systems into arousal.

Sideswipe caressed Prowl's thigh, the only part of him he could reach. "I'd enjoy this more if your engine was actually running."

Prowl looked up and his lips twitched. He shoved Sideswipe onto his back. "There you go, touching and talking again."

He placed one hand on either side of the twin's helm. He leaned down to murmur into Sideswipe's receiver. "Just because you don't see a reaction, doesn't mean I'm getting nothing from this." He then scooted down out of Sideswipe's sight and caressed the black legs. As before Prowl quested his energy field against Sideswipe's like a gentle caress, or a feathery touch. The tactician worked his way up Sideswipe's front, threading his field through the twin's and drawing moans from the warrior's vocalizer. Sideswipe writhed under Prowl's touch, his legs trapped by Prowl's interference.

Field manipulation was usually only done between bondmates who could read the other's stats without being interfaced, whose fields had already adjusted to each other. It was dangerous as it disrupted the flow of both mechs energy fields and normally was done closer to a medic than the middle of nowhere. Prowl hadn't done this for a very long time, even when this mood struck him, he had other methods he engaged.

Prowl hovered over him, his hands growing still, but his field continued to play over Sideswipe's drawing disrupted sounds from the red twin's vocalizer

Sideswipe so badly wanted to touch Prowl, return the feeling that the black and white mech had coursing through his systems. He lifted his hands, cradling Prowl's torso plating in his palms. Prowl sat upright, his optics flashing. "I knew you wouldn't be able to keep your hands to yourself." He slammed Sideswipe's hands over his head, chains rattling as his headlights hovered above the warrior's face.

It was an irresistible target.

Sideswipe lunged, setting his dental plates against Prowl's bumper, and tugging the tactician down. He laughed as Prowl pulled free and struggled back up.

"Bad, bad bad bad, oh so very bad." Prowl's chevron pressed against Sideswipe's forehead, and the words growled out from between his dental plates. His hands moved against Sideswipe's and something clicked.

Prowl moved away, allowing Sideswipe to look up at his manacles. Prowl had several chains wrapped around the central device, and looped around several nearby trees.

"Aw, don't you want a tree falling on your head again?" Sideswipe laughed at the pinching grip of Prowl's hands. His laughter cut off as the tactician added the force of his field to the grip

Prowl's other hand grabbed the rubber of the warrior's tires, digging into the tread. He drew the energy field through Sideswipe's systems and it looped back, unable to reach past the rubber. "You don't learn, do you?"

Sideswipe panted, pressing against the muddy ground, unable to move much less talk. "No," he finally choked.

"You'll learn to do as you're told. Call me Prime."

The metal chains clashed and rattled as Sideswipe struggled against them, arcing his back as Prowl pressed against his energy field. Invectives rolled out of Sideswipe's vocalizer as he writhed under his lover's electric touch.

Prowl didn't kiss him, didn't touch him with his lips, but he bade the warrior to do as he was told. The perfectly formed words shaping his mouth in ways that set Sideswipe imagination on fire with memories of how they felt against him. Oh how Sideswipe wanted the Datsun's mouth on him now. To feel those dental plates scraping against his chassis. He scrabbled to press his thighs against the tactician's aft.

"Prowl, please, oh please let me touch you –ahh- let me kiss you! Hnn. Please I can't stand- uhn."

Prowl ran a finger up the hood of Sideswipe's car form, his tone light despite the emptiness of his face. "Now why should I reward you like that when you're not doing as you're told. " He shifted until his knees pressed the white and black legs back to the ground. "You're _still_ touching and talking for Primus' sake."

Sideswipe's energy field rippled along the path of Prowl's fingers, sending Sideswipe's systems into paroxysms as the field coursed through them.

"Now you have to beg to call me Prime. And maybe I will permit you."

A garbled cry erupted from the red mech's vocalizer. The trees creaked as they bore the entirety of his considerable strength. He kicked his feet seeking purchase, seeking release from his lover's torment. And torment it was. The pain of systems offlining and coming back on at sporadic rates, his engine and fuel tank churning under the assault. "Prowl, please." His mouth moved, but no words came out. The tactician intensified his careful attack, stroking along the fringes of Sideswipe engine. "Please let me say it."

"That's not begging. I know you can. You were, not even a breem ago."

"Please, oh please oh please. Let me. Let me!"

A white hand came up to stroke Sideswipe's cheek seam. "Do you really want to?"

"Primus, _yes!_"

The other hand joined in, stroking the black cheek guards, up to the audio horns; pulling on Sideswipe's energy field all the while. "Go ahead. Tell me what you want. Prove how much you want it."

"Ah Prowl." Static blacked Sideswipe's vision. "Prime! Prime, please let me touch you. Let me touch you, Prime. Please, oh please let me kiss you, Prime."

Prowl's optics dimmed as he stroked his thumbs over Sideswipe's lips, and then he leaned down and touched his lips to Sideswipe's. There was no passion in the gesture. No demand. It couldn't even be described as tender. That didn't keep Sideswipe from pressing forward, from making his own demands, and he certainly didn't bother with tenderness. He panted and whimpered against the tactician's mouth until Prowl responded. Languid hands contradicted the fierce humming of their fields wrapping around each other like two flames.

Prowl pulled away, mouth still open, panting –gasping- for air. Yet it didn't seem to cool his systems. His optics flickered and he almost seemed lost within himself. Sideswipe didn't have the ability to worry about that right then as Prowl hadn't halted rolling his energy field over the warrior's.

Prowl shook his head, shaking off whatever had drawn his thoughts away, and pressed his fingers against a recessed panel in Sideswipe's torso. Sideswipe shook as the tactician forced the access panel up._Primus, what's gotten into him?_ The black and white mech paused, his gaze never leaving Sideswipe's and he plugged into the now exposed port. Prowl straddled Sideswipe's body, his head hanging and his optics flickering. His physical inaction belied the invasive force of his programs latching onto Sideswipe's. He pressed through the warrior's networked systems, resetting each one as he passed. Sideswipe found himself unable to move anything but his arms, unable to control anything but his vocalizer. It would be the only way Prowl would know if he was going too far, for he had no access to Sideswipe's personality matrix, his spark.

Then he added the force of his energy field and Sideswipe cried out, unable to release any other way. Prowl's door wings flared and his hands dug into the muddy earth. He panted, his field pressing against Sideswipe's pulling it into his own, cutting it off, only to reconnect it an astrosecond later.

Sideswipe yanked at the chains and the trees groaned but held fast. Sideswipe could feel the ghostly caress of Prowl inside his systems, inside his mind, activating, deactivating and reactivating sensors and relays, and circuits and programs. Without his own connection Sideswipe couldn't reciprocate.

Prowl washed through him, almost as intimate as any bond. The only thing that connected the two mechs was the thin cable from Prowl' waist.

Blue flashed in his visual field, two shades of the same color, as distinct as they were the same. The energy fields hit the visible spectrum as lightning that twisted and tangled, shooting out from one to the other, coursing up the metal of the chains and lighting the trees, blackening without ever catching flame.

A finale of light and _sound_ as the backwash hit them both, stuttering and stalling systems. Overloading and shutting them down. The roar followed, static filling their audio receivers.

* * *

Sideswipe came online with a start, aware of the weight on his chest and legs. He moved aching arms to reach down and stroke the limp doorwings.

"Pbbbrrrrooowlll?" He tried again, forcing his vocalizer to cooperate. "Prowl?"

He forced himself to his elbow, shaking the tactician's shoulder. "This in't funny, Prowl. C'mon." He rolled the black and white mech off him, scanning him with his optics as his other sensors hadn't come online yet.

A glow drew his gaze down and he yelped, scrambling to his knees.

He was covered in energon! In Prowl's energon!

"Prowl! Prowl, come on, activate yourself." Desperation raised his voice by a few octaves.

He couldn't see any damage that would account for the energon covering his chassis. Where the slag had it come from?

"Yer'a messsss Sssidessss," Prowl's words slurred out of his vocalizer, and his optics glowed weakly.

"Primus, Prowl. Don't scare me like that!" He drew the tactician against his pink chest plate. "How could I explain it to Ratchet, and Prime?"

Prowl hummed a non-answer. "I feel ssoo depleted. Have any energon goodies? My reserves are low."

He managed a crooked grin. That was where it was from. "Yeah, I think they're all over me." He pulled the container out of subspace, replacing the med kit.

Prowl was silent for a moment and Sideswipe wondered if the tactician had fallen into recharge. "Pink's not yer color. Look better'n red." He took the goody offered. "Surge must'a purged my tank. S'rry."

"It's okay." Sideswipe disconnected Prowl's cable –wincing as it stuck to his port- coiling it and sliding the panel back over. He lay back, pulling the tactician with him. He landed on something uncomfortable, and snatched it out from under his head. He had been chained, hadn't he? "Shorted out your cuffs too."

"Mmmwonder how'll explain that." The tactician shifted, settling next to Sideswipe's side. "Y'all muddy."

"So're you. I don't want to hear it."

They lay in silence, giving their self-repairs a chance to work. Sideswipe popped a goody stick in his mouth. He'd clean up after he re-energized some.

"What happened?"

"Hmmm?" Prowl took another goodie from the container held against the warrior's torso.

"Something happened for you to want to do that. And you came with chains and handcuffs. You were planning it. _What happened_?"

Prowl hissed static, making Sideswipe lift his head in surprise. The Datsun turned away, his doorwings bent awkwardly.

"Prowl?"

"Nothing," Prowl snapped. "It was nothing."

Sideswipe scowled at his lover and lay back down. _Primus, what did I say wrong?_


	20. Off the Ground

Off the Ground

Author's Notes: First of all, I'd like to apologize for how long this took to get out. I hope to never have that happen again.

The term 'cogsucker' is being borrowed from Cinderburster, because Siders couldn't resist. My thanks go to Seienchan for betaing this chapter (all remaining errors are mine own). The shuttle's name is being borrowed from IDW (though with good reason X3)

* * *

Sideswipe pounced, launching himself from one set of wings to another. His previous playmate shrieked at him, swearing and shooting. Prowl's voice rang through the comm channel, directing him to head off Dirge's strafing run. That would take the last of his rocket fuel reserves. He communicated the fact to the second-in-command as he ripped into Thundercracker's cockpit, pulling out a handful of wires and circuitboards. 

Prowl had probably just grounded the rocketeer in his onboard simulator. It amused the warrior that, for all that his lover professed to lack an imagination, he had the capacity to play his tactics out like one of his beloved board games.

He activated his jet pack, kicking away from the blue F-15 and leaving two large dents in the wedge-shaped wings. Thundercracker was down for the count. The wind whistled past the red twin's audio horns as he plummeted toward the other blue jet, and he tackled Dirge, grappling him away from the already damaged landing strip. He realized, as he clung to the bucking jet, that Prowl had never acknowledged his communication. He wrestled the Seeker around until he faced Prowl's last position.

"_Sideswipe, repeat your last transmission, please_." Trailbreaker's voice broke through the static that had filled the secure channel.

Prowl was nowhere in sight. "_This is the last of my rocket fuel. I'm gonna be crashing this 'Con._" Where the frag had Prowl gone? But he couldn't ask Trailbreaker, it would be too suspicious.

"_Direct him toward the Constructicons. Stop them from joining._"

Sideswipe snarled at the conehead, wrenching him around and down. He headed for the merging gestalt, aiming to plow the Seeker into the torso. "_Sunny! What the slag were you _doing" Sideswipe shouted over a private line.

"_What the frag are you on about_?" The golden Lamborghini was stomping at the cassettes trying to swarm over him.

"_Weren't you supposed to be covering Prowl?_"

Silence, interrupted by bursts of static filtered through the comm.

Devastator loomed, large and ugly, in Sideswipe's sights. He braced himself for impact.

Sunlight glinting on metal caught his peripheral vision, and he spared a glance to his right. Another jet rolled away from the large hand. It righted itself and roared toward Sideswipe.

"_Grab on!_"

The red twin let go and grabbed the passing wings, dangling from the dropping aircraft. An explosion shook his circuits, tossing the unbalanced F-4 forward.

They plowed into the ground, skidding and spinning, throwing up dirt in their wake. Metal crunched and buckled as Sideswipe flipped onto his back, wrenching gears and servos. He didn't want to imagine what it did to the lighter mech.

He didn't have time to lay there. He rolled to his knees, placing his position on the battlefield. Decepticons surrounded him, some exchanging fire with the Autobots, a few leering down at the Autobots in their midst.

Sideswipe glared back. _Aw frag, behind Decepticreep lines._ Just where he'd always wanted to be. He would be fine, by himself, but Fireflight hadn't stirred a servo yet.

He slowly moved a hand toward the Phantom's bent wing, nudging gently. "_'Flight_?"

"_They're all looking at us, Sides_," came the youth's shaky reply. The upside-down airplane shuddered nervously.

A smirk played on Sideswipe's lips. "_Tend to do that when they've got perfectly good hostages. Or so they think. Wanna prove these cogsuckers wrong?_" His tense gaze never left the sneering triplechangers' faces. Four burnt and battered Constructicons had joined them, none of them looking all that pleased.

"_Um… yes?_"

Sideswipe threw himself at the two triplechangers, shouting nonsense into their audio receivers. The whine of engines powering up marked Fireflight's intent. The shriek of metal dragging over rock briefly over-powered the thrusters' roar. The Aerialbot barreled through the Constructicons, transforming and skidding on his feet into a turn. Energon and smoke leaked out of the rents on his back as he paused only briefly before transforming again, burning the grass with the force of his thrusters.

Sideswipe climbed Astrotrain's front, leaping from the shuttle's nose to latch onto the damaged wings again. He felt one of the Decepticon's hands grab hold of his foot and he kicked out, crying out at sudden, and intense pain.

A low flying concorde opened fire. Powerglide flew alongside the Aerialbot commander. The guns of the A-10 on Silverbolt's left whirred on, and the minibot slowed down from the strength of his own guns. The two Autobot jets veered off, coming around to strafe the Decepticons again.

"_I don't think I can stay up,_" Fireflight moaned on an open channel. The F-4 was dropping altitude at an alarming rate, his damaged wings shuddering with the effort of holding them up for this long.

"_Sideswipe_," Trailbreaker paused in issuing orders to direct his attention at the Lamborghini, "_can you bring Fireflight to Ratchet?_"

A sudden burst of static broke through Trailbreaker's transmission. "_This is the_Xantium,_ requesting clearance to enter Earth Air Space._"

Prime answered. "_Permission granted, _Xantium_. Welcome to Earth, Ultra Magnus."_

Sideswipe braced his legs as Fireflight continued his fight to remain aloft. Silverbolt and Powerglide had already left to clear a path for the incoming ship.

The unit commander didn't waste words on pleasantries, but another voice broke through. "_The Decepticons have rolled out the welcome mat. Permission to engage once we burn through?_" There was no denying that voice: Springer.

Ultra Magnus spoke before Optimus could. "_Denied. Stay at your station, soldier._"

"_I'll get him to Ratchet, 'Breaker," _the red twin agreed, during a break in transmissions..

The strategist acknowledged and his attention turned elsewhere.

" '_Flight cut your engines as soon as I'm on the ground_." Sideswipe's heels skimmed the tall grass. _"I've got you_."

Fireflight didn't acknowledge, but an astrosecond after Sideswipe's feet touched the ground running, the jet's engines whined down. He stumbled to the ground, under several tons of jet. He did manage to keep the Aerialbot from further damage, but he couldn't place his weight on one of his legs. He glanced down, hissing in pain as he saw the shredded remains of his foot and ankle.

"Can you transform? It'd help." His hands loosened their grip on the jet as the Aerialbot engaged his transformation sequence. When Fireflight locked, midtransformation, Sideswipe forced him the rest of the way, unable to stand seeing the young bot so distorted.

Fireflight staggered to his feet, only able to stand fully when Sideswipe ducked under his arm, taking a great deal of weight off his legs.

"Come on, kid, let's get you to the Doc." He limped quickly, aware of the targeting systems being directed his way. The walking wounded all but carried large 'Shoot me!' signs on their backs. Sideswipe had faith in his comrades that they would cover both him and Fireflight. A faith not unfounded as the three remaining airborne Aerialbots (Air Raid had been shot down earlier in the battle) ran an explosive run over the Decepticon ranks.

"_He stalled._" Sunstreaker's unusually quiet voice reminded Sideswipe of his reason for going to Ratchet.

"_He what?_" Fireflight moaned as Sideswipe came to an abrupt stop. He staggered on his bad leg, catching sight of the energon that trailed behind them, though whether it came from Sideswipe or Fireflight was uncertain.

"_He just shut down all of a sudden._"

A mass of orange smudged the blue sky. The battle would soon be over. Megatron wouldn't stay when the _Xantium_ came within firing range.

Sideswipe set off at a brisk pace, all but dragging Fireflight along. He stumbled into a more appropriate pace as he entered the airfield-turned-medical-camp. Ratchet looked up, his optics sliding along their two frames as he scanned them for damage. "Get in line."

Sideswipe's gaze flicked over the wounded. He nodded at Bluestreak as he set Fireflight down. He locked onto the black and white form of his lover.

"Where the frag do you think you're going? Get. In. Line." The CMO glared lasers at the red twin.

"What? Why? I can still stand in the firing line." From here he could see that Prowl was still offline.

First Aid quietly pointed toward the upper left corner of his chestplate.

Burns smattered the tactician's still body and dents dulled his armor, but Sideswipe couldn't see anything horribly wrong.

He tore his gaze from the tactician.

In the distance Megatron called his retreat as the _Xantium_ turned its guns.

_Oh, when did that happen?_

Bits and pieces of metal and burnt wires slowly tumbled out of a gaping hole near his shoulder. The adjacent tire was shredded, useless.

Now that it had been brought to his attention, his sensors deemed it ready to be felt. _Oh, Primus. That _hurt.

* * *

Prowl came online with a start, staring at the frowning medic hovering over him. A red finger poked his shoulder tire. "The _Xantium's_ landed. Prime wants you there to greet the crew. But don't lift. One. Slagging. Thing. You and I will be having a nice long talk about what happened when we get back to base." 

Prowl sat up, nodding. He didn't ask what happened, his diagnostics told him quite clearly that he had fallen into a sudden recharge. Looks like Ratchet finally caught up to him. He met the medic's gaze. "Am I free to go?"

Ratchet narrowed his optics. "Get."

The tactician made his way over to Trailbreaker, meeting the black mech's concerned gaze with a smile.

"Primus, it's good to see you up and about." He extended a datapad and Prowl accepted it graciously. "You scared the frag us, collapsing like you did."

The datapad held a list of injured and the collateral damage, lost wages from lack of business while their landing strip was repaired. He ignored the other scenario in his tactical system that showed what would have happened had the Autobots _not_ intervened on the humans' behalf. The _Xantium_ alone would have been enough of a deterrent once it came within firing range, but by then the airfield would have been so much slag . The little creatures rarely processed things in a logical manner, and refused to listen to any such argument.

He scanned the list of injured and found Sideswipe's name. He'd expected that since he recalled Sideswipe's last status report, just before his systems went offline. He frowned as he saw that the Lamborghini would require assistance back to base so that he might have his leg rebuilt. Apparently a lucky shot had also ruptured one of his main fuel lines. Another report told him that Fireflight had diverted Sideswipe's run into Devastator.

Why the frag had Sideswipe done such a suicidal thing? Prowl was going to terminate that maniac!

The _Xantium's_ engines hummed as they wound down. Heat rolled off the ship's hull, steam and smoke whirled from nooks and crannies. Prowl knew that protocol dictated the crew finish placing the craft on standby before they disembarked.

Optimus cast a concerned glance toward his second-in-command. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I am functioning within normal parameters."

The flash of his optics gave away Prime's disbelief. "As long as Ratchet released you."

"He did."

A low rumble sounded from Prime's engine, and the Autobot commander moved to join his troops.

A small contingent of humans dressed in uniform waited off to the side. Spike waited with the Autobots, his clothing pressed and hair neat. Prowl noted the exhausted circles under his eyes. He'd always heard that human sparklings demanded much of their creators. Prowl paused by Spike with a soft query after his wife and child.

Spike smiled, tired but proud as he blinked dazedly. "Daniel's been keeping Carly up half the night. He's got some kind of stomach virus. She was hoping to be here, but…" he trailed off, shaking his head at the circumstances.

The tactician nodded and proceeded down to the head of the line, where Optimus patiently waited.

Air hissed as the seal on the door broke and the hatch opened, lowering to form a ramp.

The Autobots waited in expectant silence as the first of the _Xantium's_ crew stepped onto the ramp. Ultra Magnus saluted sharply, his motions as precise as Prowl remembered them. His plating showed the sheen of fresh paint and a new coat of wax. As punctilious as ever. In some ways, Ultra Magnus could be as boorish about his appearance as Tracks and Sunstreaker. It was a part of his dutiful soldier persona. At the same time, he did not fry a circuit for each and every scratch that accumulated during a battle or on the field.

The blue carrier paused, just before he stepped down to the asphalt. "Permission to come planetside, Prime."

A blue hand reached toward Ultra Magnus as Optimus laughed. "Granted." He draggedthe unit commander down to thump his shoulder struts. "It's good to see you, old friend."

Greetings between the two commanders exchanged the rest of Xantium's crew stepped out. Prowl saw many familiar faces- he nodded at Kup, glad to see the old mech still functioning- and many new ones. His doorwings twitched in surprise to see a femme laughing among Springer's group. He had not been aware of the presence of a femme amongst Ultra Magnus' crew. Then again, what had been the bare absence of 11.45 metacycles for the Ark crew, was almost 50,000 vorn for the Cybertronian mechs.

The two crews stood apart for nearly a breem, uncertainty shifting amongst them. Naturally it was Jazz who took the first step and broke the uncertain murmuring with a (loud) cheery greeting.

Prowl stood with Prime and Ultra Magnus, his attention divided between the humans greeting the large carrier and the suddenly raucous meeting of old and new friends.

The human representatives of the world governments said their piece and and moved away. Bumblebee was taking Spike around, introducing the boy to mechs he know and meeting ones he didn't. Prowl recalled the time when the world governments had attempted to persuade Spike and Sparkplug to act as their representatives, their diplomats, amongst the Autobots. Prowl had been certain they would accept the logical position, as had Prime. Both had been surprised when Sparkplug had refused on his and his son's behalf. Sparkplug had explained that they would have been expected to act as much as spies as ambassadors, and divulge Autobot secrets.

Instead they remained as liaisons on the Autobots' behalf, explaining two vastly different cultures and fighting the (not so)occasional slander from the human media.

The Autobots couldn't have found stauncher friends amongst any other race.

Ultra Magnus placed a hand on the balck and white mech's windshield. "Prowl, I didn't hear you during the battle." His voice rose in a concerned query.

Prowl smiled, meeting the gaze of his old partner. "I had a bit of a stall." The large unblinking optics stared down at him silently. Prowl shifted in the uncomfortable silence. "I see Springer's as impetuous as ever." He waved the datapad, indicating the recorded request.

Ultra Magnus chuckled, his gaze finally flicking to his rambunctious crew. "Hot Rod and Arcee are no help, they only encourage him."

"Hot Rod and Arcee?" Prowl followed the carrier's gaze to the femme laughing with the flame-painted mech and Ironhide. It didn't take a supercomputer to compute what Ultra Magnus was implying. He took a step back, his systems stuttering as he followed his processing to its logical conclusion.

_Oh Primus, this is not going to be pretty._

* * *

Sideswipe could see how tense his brother was getting as one of the new mech (Headspin, or something like that) talked to them, asking them questions about this and that. Or rather asking Sunstreaker questions, any answer supplied by Sideswipe was summarily ignored, or worse, dismissed out of hand. Quite frankly, it was turning the red twin's last switch. 

Sideswipe saw Prowl disappear into the ship and excused himself, to duck into the cruiser, following the tactician's telltale signature. A white hand reached out and grabbed the red warrior, hauling him into an unlocked office. Prowl released him, watching as he stumbled on his bad leg.

"What were you thinking? Trying to ride a Seeker into Devastator?"

"Hey now, that wasn't my idea. That was 'Breaker's-"

The tactician cut him off, prodding the warrior's chestplate with a finger. His black and white doorwings angled back, expressing his displeasure. "Don't you _dare_ try to blame this one on Trailbreaker. I know what he told you, and he did not intend for you to be on that Seeker when he crashed into Devastator."

Sideswipe spread his hands. "Well, what was I supposed to do? He wouldn't have stayed on course if I'd just let him go!"

Prowl's optics dimmed and he sighed in exasperation. "You could have bent his ailerons into place, he would have struck in that general vicinity. I know you're smarter than this, Sideswipe. Why do you keep doing stupid things like that?"

"Stupid things? I don't know," the twin drawled. "I guess that depends on why you stalled in the middle of a fight."

Prowl drew back at that.

"I've been responsible for enough of your crashes that nothing out there," Sideswipe jabbed a finger in the general direction of the battlefield, "would have caused it."

Prowl continued to be silent, his lips drawing down in a frown. A sigh vented from his frame.

"It's not…" Sideswipe tilted his head and arched his brow ridges. "_Jazz_, is it?" He would rip that fragger limb from limb.

"No."

"You aren't going to tell me it's nothing, are you?" Sideswipe all but growled on the word 'nothing.'

"It is something I'm attempting to deal with."

Sideswipe was not impressed. "Like you dealt with Jazz? You handled _that_ fragging wonderfully."

"Your attempts to deflect the attention from yourself will not be successf-"

The heavy sounds of footsteps snapped their attention from each other and toward the closed door. They moved apart, distancing themselves from what could only be a lover's spat.

Prowl's posture changed, taking on his normal authoritative air.

The door hissed open, admitting a surprised Ultra Magnus. He looked between the second-in-command and the warrior, his large optics winking off briefly.

"Am I disturbing something," he glanced around the room, "in my office?"

"I apologize for monopolizing your office, Ultra Magnus. I assure you we were just finishing." The tactician shot a stern glare at the red mech.

Sideswipe adopted a 'whatever' stance, sliding his gaze lazily away from the two officers.

Prowl's optics narrowed. "You are dismissed for now, Sideswipe, but we _will_ continue this conversation at a later time."

Sdeswipe clenched his fists and glowered at the black and white officer. "Whatever happened to us being finished?" But he let his body language convey that the conversation would _indeed_ be finished later.

He stalked out of the office, even though he kept his uneven steps light. He paused just out of sight of the door, his head tilted to catch the slightest sound.

"Did you forget something, Magnus?"

The twin automatically stiffened at Prowl's casual shortening of the unit Commander's name. He forced himself to relax, reminding himself that they had broken off a _long_ time ago. That didn't mean he had to be _happy_ about it.

"Actually Prime asked me to go see what you were doing. Why would he do that?"

Sideswipe staggered as every one of his systems froze. A chill swept through his frame, despite the warmth left from the atmosphere burn.

"I did just stall. Perhaps he was making sure that nothing untoward had happened to me in here?" Prowl's cool demeanor belied the faint trace of a tremor.

Metal scraped together, the sound of joints hissing. "He specifically asked me to make sure that you were not in here with Sideswipe. Any particular reason why?"

Sideswipe leaned against the wall, ventilators working overtime as his overclocked processors made sense of what Ultra Magnus said. _He knew. He _knew.

"Jazz has presented a baseless accusation against myself. I am certain it's just a precaution." The sound of two pairs of feet tromped toward the door.

"If it were baseless, Prime wouldn't be pursuing it. What was-"

Sideswipe didn't hear the rest of Ultra Magnus' question as he beat a hasty retreat. He knew about Jazz's attempt to reveal their affair to Prime, but he thought the matter had been dismissed. Apparently not. Had Prowl known that Prime had been suspicious this whole time, _and never said anything?_ What was going through Prowl's processors to make him keep such information from Sideswipe?

So distracted was Sideswipe that he didn't realize he'd stumbled into the cargo area until Springer slapped his back in a hearty greeting.

"Sideswipe! It's great to see you still functional."

The red twin managed a suitable return, pulling himself out of his processor to look at the green mech.

They looked each other over; Springer with his mouth set contemplatively. The triple-changer looked good; a little scuffed and dusty, but nothing a good wash and fresh paint wouldn't take care of. He seemed to have a few more attachments than Sideswipe remembered him with, but then he guessed that was to be expected after so long a time.

"What are you doing here? You don't look like you could lift a support beam, much less a crate."

Sideswipe glared at the triplechanger. He limped over to one of the crates and hefted it up with one hand, resting it on his shoulder. "I'm no lightweight."

Springer grinned, his optics dim. "You and your brother never were." The green mech clenched his jaw, dental plates squeaking. "How is… Sunny?"

Sideswipe frowned as he moved around the triplechanger. "He's outside. Ask him."

"But I'm asking you."

The red twin turned to glare at Springer. He sent a query through his bond, gauging his brother's mood. "Annoyed." They both knew that was putting it lightly.

"I guess he would be."

"What are you doing hiding in here then?" Sideswipe asked when he realized the other mech hadn't picked up anything the entire time they'd been talking.

Springer waved a datapad. "Directing inventory." He glanced at the identification marks on the crate. "That's going to the construction team. See Grapple." He grinned at Sideswipe's wide optics.

"You're an officer?"

"Team leader actually."

That didn't compute. Not happy-go-lucky Springer? Not stick-it-up-your-tailpipe-_sir_ Springer? "_You_?" So Sideswipe was lacking in eloquence at the moment.

"Well, we lost a bunch of officers when you guys disappeared. And we lost even more when the Decepticons routed us from Lathix."

Headspin(or whatever his name was) trudged up the cargo bay ramp.

"They must have been desperate to have to promote you."

The blue and white mech paused in examining the crates, visor flashing. Springer jerked his head in a dismissive gesture.

"Better me, than Downshift. He'd demoralize his entire team." Springer gestured Headspin to bring over his chosen crate. "I'd love to chat, but I need to get this stuff out of here." The green shoulders straightened and he turned a stern look on the red mech. "And you better get clearance from Ratchet before you come back in here."

Sideswipe huffed. "You'll talk to Sunny, though, right?"

The green mech laughed. "Are you kidding me? Your brother would hunt me down if I didn't."

Sideswipe chuckled his agreement and left, still carrying his cargo; his leg ablaze in pain. Maybe he wouldn't be helping out after all. He hadn't had a good scolding from the doc in a while anyways. Ratchet probably needed a chance to vent.


	21. Off to the Side: Springer

Off to the Side: Springer

AN: Yeah, this chapter was a headache and a half to get out. I certainly never forgot about Star Crossed. Now, I'm ready to get back to some nummy Prowl/Sideswipe.

Warnings: Brief mention/insinuation of Lambo Sandwich/Threesome 

* * *

Space travel. There is nothing so long, so boring, so tormenting, as space travel. A lucky mech gets put into stasis for the duration of the trip. Offline at the departure point, come back online at the destination. The time difference is noted by the mech's chronometer, but not their memory banks. If they're unlucky, they fill their banks near to capacity with dull duty. Or dull recreation. Or dull staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore other memories long since archived, but never discarded.

"_I don't know when I'll be back." Lips caress with squealing pleasantness against cables on my neck.._

_A laugh, my own. Making a joke, trying to lighten the mood. "That's normally my line." A sober twist to the spark and the laughter stalls. "Then stay. Don't go. Prime... he'd understand. You don't have to volunteer."_

_A pained expression makes me regret my words. "Sides is going."_

"_Ask him not to, then. He wouldn't want to see you unhappy."_

_You give me that Look. The one You always give whenever we discuss Your brother. It sends another twist through my spark. "I can't do that to him."_

_Anger then; an explosion of sound as I leap off the couch, my voice rising, hissing. "But he can do it to you, is that right? Just like you can't ask him to bond with me? Did you even _ask_ him? It's not like he has any real attachments. And don't throw out Bluestreak's name-"_

"_Shut up."_

_But I was on a roll. "-I know your brother doesn't love him. Don't try to tell me otherwise. You could have transferred to my unit vorns ago, Magnus would be ecstatic-"_

"Shut up!" 

"_-but you didn't-"_

"_Springer!" Rage marred Your beautiful face._

"_Because. Of. Him!"_

_I admit it. I never should have said that. I deserved every dent, every ding, every scratch. I really should have known better. You have always made it quite clear, that between me and Your brother, Sideswipe wins. Every time. Is it wrong that bothers me?_

_:Stop tormenting yourself:._

That sweet, soft voice didn't come through my audio receptors, or my comm unit. It didn't come as words either, no more than any emotion does beyond happy or sad; angry or fearful. They aren't even properly described as emotions, for that implies it's an empathic connection that some organics are able to form. It's more of a signal, a pulse, from one spark, one soul, to another.

It makes me remember a time when I thought I'd never experience the simplest of bonding pleasures.

:Stop_ tormenting yourself, Springer.:_

My vision darkened, not like I was looking at anything anyway. :_I can't help it, sparklet.:_

The constant data stream spiked. :_Stop thinking about it.: _Her glare ghosted along my sensors. _:He can't expect anything after nearly 50,000 vorn.: _

I laughed outloud and along that undetectable connection. I felt the mixture of confusion and annoyance from my partner. :_You don't know Sunstreaker, sparklet_.:

The door to the quarters hissed open, but not closed. "You know, I don't know what you're saying. But _stop_. We're going through an asteroid belt, and you're distracting her."

I didn't lift my head or activate my optics. I knew that voice, as well as I knew my own vocalizer. I scowled in the direction of the ceiling. According to my chronometer, I still had twenty cycles before I stood duty again. A quick comm. check showed my team in the rec room, but they reported nothing, but a bunch of boring chatter.

"I hate space travel. Couldn't they have placed _any_ of us in stasis for the duration of the trip."

The door finally hissed closed and my other companion approached the berth. "Is it Sunstreaker?"

I did lift my head then, to glare at the mech. "Can't we have a _private_ conversation?" I grumped good-naturedly. "Emphasis on 'private.'"

Hot Rod stood over me, his blue optics shining brightly. "Not when Arcee's navigating an asteroid field." A grin broke out on his face. "Any other time, you're welcome to talk all you want and I won't say a word."

"I would feel better about this if I'd broken it off with Sunny before he left."

The grin turned down and Hot Rod bent, his hand gripping my upper arm, his lips covering my own. For a short breem I basked in his touch and the faint murmur that was his sparkpulse echoing through Arcee.

He broke away suddenly, his mouth squealing its way to my audio receiver. "_Stop_ thinking about it." His grip tightened. "It's not like you." Hot Rod straightened, even though his fingers lingered on my chest plate. "He really can't expect anything after so long. He should have expected you to move on."

I stared at Hot Rod for a long moment, and then I sighed, and sat up, grabbing his hand to keep him from moving away. :_Neither of you understand.:_

_:That's because it's never bothered you before.:_

Hot Rod's sharp nod showed he agreed with Arcee.

"I didn't expect to ever find him." Ouch that hurt to admit.

"Exactly," Hot Rod tugged at his hand, "and that's what you're going to tell him."

I laughed, pulling Hot Rod down to the berth, sliding aside to make room for him. The red mech wore his most put upon expression and Arcee sent a query through our bond. I couldn't help it.

They knew about my time with You, but they didn't _understand. _They don't know You. Not like I do. They'd heard about You (everybody had, at least, heard about the twin terrors, considering how rare twins were) , but Prime's unit and theirs had never had the chance to meet. And sometimes the myth didn't quite match up with the real thing. Not when taken from the perspective of someone as close as I'd been. No one could really claim to be closer.

Hot Rod sat in front of me, his expression curious. I pulled him closer, until our knees touched, caressing the palms of his hands. I couldn't reach out to his spark like I could Arcee, not without going _through_ her, and I wouldn't do that while she was on duty.

Ultra Magnus would throw me in stasis at best; in the brig at worst.

The only other way was to plug into him.

I allowed my affection for the both of them to filter through first. They responded in kind, reaching out to me, and reaching out for each other. Arcee had to pull away first, distracted by her duty, but my memory files still opened for her.

_Our bodies twine together. All sensations shared through the cords that connect us. Three pairs of hands roam, caress, clutch. Fingers delve into seams and joint. Lips move with whispered words, vents hissing in pleasure. Red, yellow, and green twine together in an exotic, metallic rope._

Then I delved deeper into my archived memories, unzipping files and uploading them. The exchange lasted only for a breem, because I didn't want to draw too much of Arcee's attention. In that brief time I poured what it was to be with You, and why I kept going back despite Your faults (and they were many). That Your body was as much of a work of art as any of Your paintings was a given. But underneath the violent, reclusive, sociopathic exterior was a loyal, caring, passionate (even if You aren't particularly _com_passionate) individual. You gave Your all into whatever relationships You formed, whether companions, lovers, or rivals.

I reminded them of my reaction when Ultra Magnus had received that communication from Prime, what seems only a short time ago. The knowledge that You might still be functioning had seized me into speechlessness. It was almost like having an old weld stripped off, I'd thought I'd recovered from losing You. As I considered it, I came to realize that some part of me (that part of my spark that had tried to reach out to Yours, so long ago) still missed the sound of Your voice, the sure touch of Your hands.

_The soft rasping of armored plates brushing together. Fingers caress slick paint. Chest plates move aside to reveal the brightness inside. Green and gold is all that there is to the world. And that light that sings across our sensors. That and nothing more._

"Not everyone survived the crash," Hot Rod murmured, both aloud and through our interface.

"Ratchet wouldn't let either of those slaggers go without a fight."

_:You tried to bond with him?_ Arcee's soft query broke through my thoughts.:

_:If it hadn't been for that slagging, selfish brother of his, we would have.: _Could nothing have come before him? Not even me? Or Yourself?

I felt both of their regards.

"Think you know a guy…" Hot Rod grumbled, and Arcee echoed the sentiment.

"It's not exactly a pleasant memory." And neither was the stay in the med bay after _that_ particular argument.

_:I could talk to him.:_

I blanched. :_No sparklet. _That_ wouldn't be a good idea.:_ I almost laughed again. I knew exactly how You would react to the news, and being told by Your replacement… I didn't want Arcee on Ratchet's bad side so soon. I smirked at Hot Rod. "The same goes for you. I'll talk to him, and it'll be better if I do it alone. I don't want either of you hurt."

Arcee's outrage spiked through my spark, at the same time Hot Rod's anger surged through my systems.

:"_Don't you _dare_ try to protect me!_": they both snapped. 

The ship shuddered, and Arcee's attention jerked away from the bond for a brief breem.

It took a moment for the room to stop spinning. "I'm just saying he might be less likely to do major damage to me. I don't want it to turn into a brawl. Especially if Sideswipe's there." Primus knows that both of You together could take down a small team. Even against my Wreckers, You would put up quite a fight. It would be spectacular, and my systems heated at the thought.

Arcee and Hot Rod still sizzled at me.

"Just let me talk to him, okay. I'll handle it." I pulled my cable from Hot Rod's port. "If you insist, we'll continue this after Arcee comes off duty."

Hot Rod frowned, his optics flashing. "If you say you'll handle it…"

_:We believe you will, Springer.:_

"Why don't we head down to the rec room and see if we can't stir up some excitement." I stood. 

Hot Rod grinned, leaping to his feet. I let my fingers slide down his spoiler and he pressed another kiss to my lips. 

"Let's go find and annoy Kup!" he whooped. 

* * *

I saw You as I stepped out of the shuttle. Primus, you hadn't changed. You looked just like I remembered You. Was it amusing for You to have discovered how similar humans and Cybertronians process when it comes to vehicular beauty. The alterations from Toughline to Your new earth mode were very few indeed. And the new mode, 'Lamborghini' (whatever the slag that meant), looked very fine on You. It was almost like You had come online with nothing changed.

_:Should we be jealous:_

I didn't have to glance back to know that both Arcee and Hot Rod wore knowing smirks. They stood with the crew, waiting for the unit commander to greet the Prime. For some of us, it was almost like seeing Primus rise from the Depths (or for Hot Rod; one of the Original 13). Even I wasn't immune.

Although it wasn't the big red and blue mech that had my attention.

You stood out in the midst of a mass of reds and blue. Even Your brother seemed to fade into the crowd, blending in with the rest of the Ark crew. Even from this distance I could see the wink of Your optics. I knew You had found me as easily as I'd found You. I could hear Arcee speaking to Hot Rod, but their conversation did not interest me. Nothing could hold my attention more than You at that moment. 

Which wouldn't do me any good if I was to get any work done.

As soon as we received the signal to move down the ramp, Topspin paused by my side.

"Do you see 'em?"

Of my team Topspin had always been the most intrigued by the legendary twin terrors, most specifically You. He thrived off Your exploits during his training, and had the odd habit of collecting objects that dealt with you.

'_You're alive. You're alive. Primus risen, You're still alive._' Those words reverberated through my processor, pinging across my cortex. I could almost feel Your finish under my fingers. 

_Your hands pinned above Your head. My mouth on the cables of Your neck. You gasp, jerking against my grip. Your feet scrape across the berth, Your knees bending as You writhe deliciously under me._

:_Missing him, already?_: Arcee caressed my spark, reaching through it, stimulating my sensory net. It brought the world back into sharp focus. :_'Spin asked you a question, dearest._:

"Yeah, I see him." I glanced at the Jumpstarter A sudden surge of uncertainty swept through me right then and I suddenly had no desire to meet You at that moment.

"Is everything all right boss?"

There were too many mechs around, and it just didn't feel right to put this kind of pressure on You so soon after a battle, and in the middle of a crowd.

"Topspin, why don't you go down and meet them?"

Topspin was no fool however. He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at me, visor bright with indignation. "I ain't gettin' into your fight with Sunstreaker."

"Fight?" A laugh burst out with the word. I'd been caught. "What makes you think there's going to be a fight?"

His visor band narrowed and he stepped closer. "I've never met Sunny, but even I know how he's going to take finding out about you and 'Cee and Roddy." Topspin paused, glancing toward You and Your twin. "I am _not_ telling him for you."

"Well I wouldn't want you to. Just, distract him?" I gave him my most charming smile.

The blue mech rolled his head, but I knew I had him. "Fine fine. You owe me a round."

I slapped Topspin on the shoulder. "I knew I could count on you." 

He shook his head and trudged away, heading for where You and Your brother stood, just as Jazz broke the ice and hollered at Blurr, stepping forward and waving at the fast-talking mech. Everyone moved then, as though a circuit had been closed and they'd been freed to act.

Arcee slipped up beside me, her arm sliding around my back. "Magnus asked you to hurry up and get to the cargo bay." I felt her gaze slide over to You. "You're not going to talk to him?" Her accusation echoed over our bond, and I detected Hot Rod's grumbled agreement. 

:_Are you both against me?_: I asked both of them, making sure my question reached Hot Rod. I made my signal light, skipping through our bond almost laughingly.

Arcee's grip on my waist tightened as she swayed from Hot Rod and I reaching out to each other. I steadied her with a hand on her shoulder strut, pulling away from Hot Rod to steady her.

"I'm going to talk to him, sparklet."

She quickly regained her balance and pushed me away. "Than go to him." She lifted her chin, her optics bright with challenge. "Before you lose the megahertz."

I smirked down at her, not rising to her bait. "There's too many mechs around him. I'm going to break some bad news to him, not embarrass him in front of his friends." She relayed my words to Hot Rod. "It can wait until we get back to base."

:_You're determined to try our patience._: Laughter ran in an undercurrent through her datastream.

I grinned, but found my gaze unaccountably drawn to You.

Good old Topspin. I knew from the scowl on Your face that I'd be paying for it later. Your optics winked my way, and I also knew that if I didn't disappear, You would simply walk away and head over here on your own.

"Let me get down to the cargo bay before Ultra Magnus rips me a new port."

Arcee leaned forward to kiss me, but I could still feel Your optics on me and I grabbed her shoulders.

:_No need to give him a reason to hunt you down, sparklet._:

:_I don't fear him_.: Her signal sizzeld through my circuits.

I squeezed her shoulders, pressing her back until she relented. I didn't dare even process that I was trying to protect her. She was close enough that she wouldn't have to touch me to lay me out. It was times like these that made my spark twinge in regret at my inability to have You, thoughts I kept shielded from Arcee. No mech had that kind of power over another mech.

I went down to the cargo bay and began prepping the inventory for transport. Imagine my surprise when Your brother appeared, looking none too happy. He must have come for Your sake, it'd be typical of You to send him to find me. I knew Topspin had held You off for as long as he was able when he appeared on the ramp as I spoke to Sideswipe.

Your brother left, no more pleased than when he'd appeared. I knew that you would hear of my promotion from him, and find out where I was located. 

Topspin watched Sideswipe go, his optics dim. "Your memory of them is uncanny. I seriously thought Sunny would scrap me." The grin on his face showed his anticipation at the prospect of taking on one of You twins.

"Save it for the training room, Topspin." But I couldn't help the grin that spread on my face. Because I knew that excitement.

_The tangling of limbs as one mech tries to throw the other. A golden foot sweeps out, sending me crashing to the floor. A wrenching yank on my arm had me back on my feet. You swung me out, like some crazy dance partner. At the apex of Your reach I lunge away, using my greater weight to throw You down, landing on top of Your hissing, cursing frame. Inexplicably You stop and begin laughing. I can't help but grin, because it seems that laughter had been so rare from Your vocalizer. Ever since that cycle when both You and Your brother spontaneously crashed._

"_You slagger, I just redid my paint." You cup the back of my head, pulling me down for a kiss. "You owe me for that."_

_I pull away, taking advantage of my position by pinning Your hands above Your head and exploring Your chassis with my mouth._

:_Stop defragging, you have work to do._: Arcee's signal pulsed through my processor, drawing me from my memory files.

Arcee and Hot Rod toted a large crate between them; they both flashed me grins. "Where are we taking this?"

I glanced at the markings on the crate and compared it to the list in my hand. "That's bound for medical."

:_Seems to me we'll need to distract you from yourself_.: The underlying purr that came through the bond set my tactile sensors nearly into overload.

"Topspin? Is Sunny on his way here?"

Topspin grinned. "Magnus has him sorting piles for transport." The Jumpstarter grabbed a few of the bundles of scrap rods, and slung them over his shoulders. "He won't be botherin' ya anytime soon."

Only partially relieved, I diligently directed the growing line of movers until the cargo bay was completely cleared. When I finally stepped back out into the alien air, the system's main star had rotated out of view. Distant stars sprinkled the sky, like so many beacons of lights.

"_Springer, we've got a load for you to carry,_" Ultra Magnus sounded annoyed. "_Get over to the loading area, and hook up to one of the platforms. The humans need us to clear out of here, so they can land their planes_." Which would explain his annoyance. 

As I walked, I kept my sensors scanning for Your familiar energy signature. I spotted You tying a platform onto another helo, one of the Ark based bots. I could have shouted at You, but my fuel tank churned at the prospect of speaking to you after such a long absence. 

I… didn't know what to say. 

What do you say to someone who's been missing for over 50,000 vorn? Where do you begin? 'Hi, how are you?' seems too simple, too little, after so long a time. Would You be the same mech? Had the time in stasis changed You?

Had I changed?

I turned my head and strode over to one of the other platforms, ready and waiting for transport. I managed a half-smile for Twin Twist. "I thought you'd already be on your way."

"Well, we brought it here, I figured we can make sure it all leaves in one piece."

I transformed, rotors spinning, and took my place above the transport platform.

"I'll get it. Get out of the way."

When did You get over here.

"I've got this under control." Twin Twist turned to the golden mech. "Go get Whirl hooked up."

You turned a glare on my Wrecker, and suddenly I knew why Twin Twist had hung back.

"_Get out of here, Twist. Don't go looking for a fight with the twins."_ I swear all my Wreckers wanted to pit themselves against someone who could hold my interest for so long. It reminded me of the time they'd challenged first Hot Rod and then Arcee, when I'd taken them for lovers. They think so highly of me, and anyone unwilling to take them on they considered unworthy of me.

I could hear the growl of Your engine as You waited for Twin Twist to leave. When the Jumpstarter had finally left, You turned Your optics on me. You were silent as You regarded me, but I could see that fire burning in those bright optics. I knew You weren't happy.

"Are you going to say anything? Or just hover there like I don't exist?" Oh yeah, not happy.

I laughed. "Well I was hoping you wouldn't notice me. I can't be _that _noticeable."

"Slagger! Too good to come down to talk to us grunts now that you're an officer?" The smile on Your face put the lie to the snarl from Your vocalizer.

You acted as though nothing had changed. You were acting as though we'd only been separated a vorn, or less.

You pick up the cabling, optics still on me, scowl on your face.

"I had to get the inventory ready for transport." A lame excuse, I realized as soon as my vocalizer clicked off.

You slammed the hook into place on an anchor on my underside, hard enough to make me lose altitude for an astrosecond. "You can't tell me Magnus would have minded if you had spent a few breems reuniting with old friends." You bend down to scoop up another cable, slamming it home. This time I felt the plating there give a little.

Well there's no way I can deny that. "Can't this wait until we get back to base?" I felt uncomfortably aware of the optics turned our way. I didn't want to spark a circuit under so many watchful eyes. It was never something I worried about when I was a regular soldier. There were a number of occasions where I'd defended either of my bondmates' honor without thinking of how it affected others' view of me. Experience as an officer had shown that I needed to be more circumspect in drawing attention to my more delinquent activities, at least the ones that I still participated in.

Another hook slammed onto one of my anchors. "Can't what wait until we get back to base?"

"This."

"And what's this that you want to wait to get back to base for?"

I nearly snapped a harsh reply at Your backtalk. But then it occurred to me that You were merely continuing a game (if it can be called that) the two of us picked up somewhere along the way. I'd attempted it with Arcee and Hot Rod, but these kinds of play on words were a moot point when we could read each other's spark.

"I'm not doing this right now, Sunny."

Your optics flicker, as You snap Your head up. "The frag are you talking about? Doing what right now?"

You don't even realize You're doing it? Had it become such a part of our routine that You're not even thinking about it? That… irritated me. 

"How… have you been?" I changed subjects, evading the question.

You narrow Your optics drawing Your lips thin into a straight line. "How do you think? Being stuck on this slagging dirtball planet for the last 12 metacycles. Stuck with…" You hesitate, glancing toward Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus. Your brother is over there, being loaded onto Ultra Magnus. "Stuck with only these slaggers cycle in and out. And the natives on this planet are _disgusting_." You sneer and I realize that the words that crackled out of your vocalizer were not the ones you were thinking.

And then you began a breakdown of just what made the humans so disgusting, listing everything from their hygiene to the dirt that came in plentiful amounts on this planet (though how that was their fault, I'll never know). You snapped and snarled so much that I wondered what human offended You so badly.

It was the focus of Your processor, Your dim optics glaring off to the side, Your vocalizer hissing and buzzing.

I used to sit and listen to You hiss and spit about Your finish before You left. Not without complaint and objections, of course. I can only hear so much about how the shade You had to use is the wrong hue and it ruined Your image,.

Why the slag did I _ever_ sit there and listen to You. I know there must have been a reason, but Primus alone knows what it was.

"Sunny…" I had to get him to stop. I didn't have the patience, or the time for this, and I should tell him. Arcee gave me a bolstering nudge over or bond, telling me to go ahead.

You stop Your tirade against organics, looking at me sharply. "What?"

"Did it ever occur to you that I- That there might be someone else?"

You shrug negligently. "Yeah, it occurred to me."

"Well, I-"

You cut me off by patting my side. "Hey, it's okay. I _was_ gone a long time." You grin, but Your flaring optics show You're not as okay with it as You let on. "But you're here, and I'm here." You snap the last hook in place. "We're together again."

I say nothing but my sensors remained trained on You. '_Arrogant, self-centered, sociopathic, vain-glorious…_'

"_Springer, are you good to go?_"

Ultra Magnus' voice was like a snap to reality.

You back away after giving one last tug.

"_Yeah, Magnus, I'm ready."_

You transform to your earth mode. "See you at base?"

"…yeah…"

"_Autobots, roll out!_"

How good it was to hear Prime's voice give that command. Primus, I've missed everyone. 

* * *

Sideswipe was sitting on one of the medical gurnies when I entered the medbay to give Ratchet the special requisition manifest. His optics were dim, but he had his head tilted toward the CMO's office in an eavesdropping pose. He still bore most of his field patches, even though the only mechs remaining were the ones who needed to be taken offline for repairs.

"I take it Ratchet gave you a transceiver-full for trying to help move crates?"

His optics flashed, startled and he jerked his back straight. His gaze settled on me and he grinned back. "He needed it. Warmed him up for Prowl." His optics dimmed as he tilted his head, and his smile took on a strained cast.

"Prowl?" I upped the gain on my audio receptors. Yes, I could hear Ratchet in his office, he wasn't quite screaming, but he wasn't simply yelling either. "How long have they been in there?"

Sideswipe tilted his head again; listening. "'Bout a breem." The corner of his mouth twitched in either a smirk or a grimace. "Prowl's been avoiding him." His optics brightened a micro. "I'd guess, at least."

"Hm…"

I tuned back into the angry rant going on behind Ratchet's office door.

"-recharge is not an option! I don't know what slagfool thing is going on between you and Jazz, but it stops-"

"Jazz?" The lucky slagger. He'd been chasing Prowl for a few hundred vorn before the Ark had left.

Sideswipe's mouth tightened again. "Yeah. Jazz… finally got him-" I snapped a confused look at the warrior as his vocalizer hitched, did his engine just growl? "-after we came back online."

I frowned at the hesitance behind his words. "Well, don't sound so happy about it, Sides." I grin. "I'm sure Jazz has loosened him up some.

Sideswipe laughed, a sound forced from his vocalizer. "No way! Tighter than a gear turning the wrong way. Slag, I swear's he's wound even tighter lately."

"Well, as nice as it is to hear Ratchet's loving voice, I need to drop this off so I can go refuel."

Sideswipe optics brightened for an astrosecond. "You do that. Though, _I_ wouldn't want to go in there when Ratchet's fuming like that. I don't think even Wheeljack would be willing to brave stepping into that room right now."

I smirked, but approached the door and chimed for the CMO's attention. The yelling("-if I have my way, and I _always_ get my way in this, you're going off active duty as soon as you step out of this office for at least a _month_-") died down almost instantly, and the door snapped open.

Ratchet glared out from behind his desk. Prowl turned and gave me a somewhat relieved look. Both of their optics focused on the area behind my shoulder.

"Sideswipe! I told you to lay down and go offline."

The tips of Prowl's doorwings drooped, and I wondered if he was embarrassed that his most notorious disciplinary problem had been eavesdropping on a reprimanding. 

The clang and scrapes of metal sliding down accompanied Sideswipe's hasty obedience.

Ratchet held out his hand for the datapad, which I happily handed over. He thanked me and told me in no few words to get out.

I'd rather be joining Sideswipe than to be Prowl at that breem in time. Of course I also wouldn't have minded being a glitchmouse on that floor either. Not often you get a chance to hear Ratchet dress down _Prowl_ like that, at least not back on Cybertron.

Hey, well speak of the Unmaker and you get the Fallen!

"Jazz! What are you coming to the bay for?" The doors close behind me, clicking softly into place. "You look better maintained than Tracks."

The saboteur grinned. "Nah man, I'm just lookin' in on Prowl's all. He gave us a scare durin' the battle yesterday."

"Yeah, we heard."

It was hard to miss that tense moment when Prowl's constant flow of words had abruptly ceased. Even stalwart Ultra Magnus betrayed his concern as he stopped behind my station. Confusion bounced around the officer's channel, until Trailbreaker took up Prowl's litany, and Ratchet had cleared Prowl's status.

"I suppose congratulations are due for finally getting Prowl into the berth." I grinned at the saboteur, still wondering how he managed that feat.

Jazz grinned back, flashing his dental plates. "Yup, sure did. Lucky me." The grin tightened and I wondered how rocky the relationship was to have Ratchet fritzing over Prowl's health. "I heard ya got yer own team," he paused, searching his memory files. "-the Wreckers? Fitting."

I smirked. "They're pains in the diodes but I wouldn't trade them for anything." I glanced back at the medbay. "Does Sideswipe still give Prowl a hard time?"

That tight smile creased Jazz's face again. "Yes. Was he still online?"

Now why would Jazz care about that? "He was enjoying Ratchet's glitching at Prowl. Ratchet caught him though, so he _should_ be offline." Of course the sneaky slagger could just as well cut all but his auditory sensors off, and still be listening in. Unless Ratchet had checked the monitors.

Jazz appraised the medbay doors. "Sides'll take anythin' fer a chance to be insubordinate." The black and white mech entered the medbay.

As the doors hissed close, I could hear the whisper of vocalizers. Most of the words I couldn't make out, but one voice rose to a level where I could make out the words.

"-don't you get _Prowl_ to tell you?" Did Sideswipe just growl at _Jazz_?

Probably mad at getting caught.

The door sealed and cut off the sound of their voices. I dismissed the matter and went in search of the rec room. Arcee was already there with Hot Rod and she informed me that Sunstreaker wasn't present, and just when was I going to talk to him, anyways?

:_Why are you making such a big deal out of this?_:

:_Because I know the way you process. You're going to put it off for as long as possible, and that'll just make it worse when you do talk to him._:

There were times I missed being an unbonded mech.

:_I'd like to think that even without the bond, I'd know you well enough by now._: 

I followed the directions fed to me from Teletraan-1, finding the rec room with an ease I hoped Sunstreaker didn't demonstrate when seeking me out.

Arcee stood by one of the monitors set into the wall, happily chatting with Hound and Mirage. Hot Rod was speaking to Smokescreen, his laughter carrying over the general murmur of the room. The rec room was packed, clearly not intended for two units to make use of it.

"_Magnus have you seen the rec room?"_

"_Prime and I are well aware of the state of the rec room. We are working on a solution. Until then it's only until we start construction on the new city. I'd recommend looking elsewhere for relaxation after you get your ration._"

"I hear congratulations are due." Mirage's disembodied voice sounded just in front of me.

"Still up to your old tricks?" I glanced out at the room. "How did you get through all that anyways?"

I heard the soft rush of a ventilator, a chuckle, and then silence. I got the distinct feeling that he had just left.

I made my own way through the crowd, aiming for the energon dispensers set in the back of the room (whose genius idea was _that_?)

:_Are you sure you didn't walk past him in the hall?_:

I stopped and turned to glance back. 

You stood there, leaning against the threshold and scanning the crowd. I had no doubt who You were looking for either.

:_Sideswipe musta told him. The sneaky slagger, I should have known something was up._:

I made my way deeper into the crowd, trying to avoid Your eye. After getting my toe joints stepped on and jostled and poked and prodded and greeted and then getting yelled at for stepping on toe joints or jostling or poking or prodding I finally arrived at the energon dispensor.

:_Get your energon and head right back to the entrance, and _talk _to Sunstreaker._:

Hot Rod appeared at my elbow, empty cube in hand. 

"She's running a little hot," I grumbled at him from between my dental plates.

He shoved his way in front of me, the corner of his mouth curling in a smirk. "She's not the only one." He filled his energon cube and walked away.

I watched him leave and then sought out Arcee. She pointedly ignored me, not even acknowledging my soft queries over our bond. 

I gathered my wits and an extra cube, and made my way over to where you stood. You straightened as I approached, Your frown morphing into a scowl. I hand You the extra cube and lean against the wall. You unobtrusively slide closer so that our shoulders are brushing just enough to tease my tactile sensors.

"Hey," I began.

"'Hey' yourself," You snapped. "Is there a reason you're avoiding me, again?"

"I'm a team leader, Sunstreaker, an officer. Ultra Magnus depends on me to help him out. I can't-" I drooped, staring at the floor. "I can't just abandon my duties."

"So… is this going to be a regular thing?"

I stared at You, and You're staring at the floor. There were still too many around. "Come on, let's get out of here." I grabbed Your arm and pull, but You pulled back, wrenching out of my grasp.

"You don't have to scratch my paint," You snapped. You glared at the room and then turned your gaze back on me. "Come on, I know where we can get some privacy." You pushed me towards the door and guided me through the halls. I could see the burning intensity in your optics, feel the determined, confident grip of your hand on my shoulder strut.

I knew what You want.

It excited me.

It angered me.

Yet it didn't surprise me.

We were in the crew quarters before I knew it, in front of a set of doors that Teletraan-1 told me lead to You and Your brother's quarters.

The doors closed behind us and You then turned toward me.

"It's about slagging time." Your mouth was over my own and Your hands were all over me.

And I responded until anger surged through me. Then I shoved you away.

And words were glitching from my vocalizer at a pace that could nearly rival Blurr's. "Is this all I ever was to you? A grab and go interface? You don't need me for that and I sure as slag don't need you! You want that, then use someone like Bluestreak! He's used to it and he won't expect anything more!"

"Slag off, Springer!" Your engine growled, and Your ventilators whirred, Your optics flaring brighter. "How many times have you come back and pulled me from whatever I was doing for a quick bang."

I slapped away the hand that came toward me. "I was never gone for _50,000_ vorn!" 

You pressed forward, pressing against me as I stood firm, until You forced me to take a step back. "I couldn't help that!" And another step. "Primus knows I'd rather be on Cybertron." You grabbed my neck and pressed your helmet against my own. "I'd rather have been with you, but Sides… you know I hate choosing between you two."

"Because Sideswipe always wins," I snarled.

"Because he's my brother," You snarled back before you kissed me.

The back of my knees hit the berth and I lost my balance. You gave me one final shove, pushing my head down to keep me from hitting against the top bunk.

The berth creaked under me as You straddled my waist, pinning my legs down with Your own. You never relented in Your demanding kiss, and even as You hold my wrists down, Your fingers were caressing my hands.

My emotion and logic circuits were ablaze in conflict. 

I _wanted_ this. I wanted this reminder of what I had lost.

I_ needed_ to stop it. You didn't know the circumstances. And once You found out, You would hate me. 

And it didn't seem _right_. After all this time, to simply return to Your arms like nothing had happened. Like 50,000 vorn of separation didn't exist.

:_Springer._: Arcee's datastream reached out to me, steadying my whirling processors. :_You know I don't care who else you're with. But I can't stand to see you so dishonest! Everything you're doing right now is a lie! And if Ultra Magnus found out…_: Her stream fluctuated with concern. :_You're an _officer_, Springer. You can't just casually interface with any mech you desire._:

"Springer?"

So lost in Arcee's communication that I hadn't realized that You'd stopped. 

:Think_ about what you're doing, dearest._:

My ventilators were rasping in an effort to cool my systems. I realized You were no longer holding me down, but staring at me. Concern warred with annoyance on Your face.

"What the frag was that?" Your optics narrowed. "I didn't detect any transmissions, but.."

Still panting, I propped myself up on my elbows. "That," there was no simpler or gentler explanation, and if I didn't tell You, someone else would, "was my bondmate." 

"Your…" You hesitated, optics flickering in a refusal to accept what Your audio horns heard. "-fragging me." You focused Your gaze back on me and You lunged, knocking me back, hands wrapped around my throat. "You're fragging me!"

I knocked your hands away from my throat, and threw you off with a sweep of my legs. 

You were on Your feet again, dental plates bared. "Is that all I'm worth to you? Just a short time away and you throw me away for your next bang, is that it? Was that all you ever had me around for? Why the frag did I ever believe a slagging, selfish-"

"A short time? _Selfish_?" I snarled back. "You're one to talk about being selfish. I thought you were _dead_! What did you expect? For me to glitch for you the rest of my existence? I moved on! Maybe you should think about doing the same."

You stepped back, ventilator whirring loudly and Your fists clenched in fury. 

Did it hurt? Did it make that part of you that You tried to give to me so long ago ache?

"You were gone! And we knew the Decepticons had gone after you. I waited, Sunstreaker, and I hoped." 

Did it make You hate Your brother, that he kept You from having what You always desired. If it weren't for him, I would have had no choice but to wait.

"I waited for a long time, _too_ long."

You ground Your dental plates, lips set in a silent snarl. Your fist crashed into the wall, jolting the selves. Your optics blazed and I braced myself to react when You struck.

It never came.

Instead You stormed out, Your steps heavy with rage.

Honestly, I was surprised.

Normally, with something like this, I would have expected You to lash out, and beat the scrap out of... well, me.

Sideswipe was suddenly at the door, glaring at me, optics flickering with a reflection of Your anger. "Get out." It's almost as if the words were coming out of Your vocalizer.

He stood there until I stepped past the threshold, and I could feel his optics on me all the way down the hall until I turned a corner.

I queried Teletraan-1 for Your location. Not surprisingly You were in the training room, undoubtedly beating on some hapless drone, or anyone unlucky enough to volunteer to spar against You.

:_Leave him be._:

An arm slipped around my waist, pulling me against a flame-painted chest plate. "Arcee's right. Let it go. You said your piece. Let him assimilate that."

"What are you doing here, 'Rod?"

He shrugged, letting me go, only to place a kiss on my lips. "I was just talking to Sideswipe in the rec room when he suddenly comes charging down here. So I followed him."

My optics flickered in surprise. "You-"

"Don't worry, I didn't tell him a thing." A wry grin flitted across Hot Rod's face. "You didn't worry, did you?"

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "Of course not."

"I'm sure you didn't."

By the time Ultra Magnus and I got to the council room, everyone already had taken a seat. 

* * *

Optimus had the head of the table, and he gestured for Ultra Magnus to take the other side. Jazz and Prowl sat on either side of the Commander. Ironhide and Wheeljack sat across from each other. Ratchet glowered from where he sat next to Prowl.

What surprised me was that he glowered _at_ Prowl. I didn't quite know what to make of that. Prowl used to be able to stay in Ratchet's good graces by virtue of not actively participating in the battles. 

Then again he _had_ unexpectedly shut down, and Ratchet had been threatening to take him off duty a solar cycle ago.

Magnus gestured for me to take the seat on his left, while Kup sat to his right.

"Thank you for joining us on such short notice, Ultra Magnus." Optimus regarded Ultra Magnus with his normal calm demeanor. "Mirage and Hound have both come back with startling and disturbing news that a good majority of the Decepticons have mobilized and taken the space bridge to Cybertron."

"This ain't disturbing news, Prime! This calls fer celebration. The Decepticons have finally left Earth."

Prowl's voice cut in, soft and still carrying the same authority it always held back on Cybertron. "Their returning to Cybertron is not necessarily a good thing, Ironhide. The femmes and the few remaining pockets of resistance will not be able to hold them back to any effect." He paused, his doorwings flicking as he lifted his gaze from the datapad in his hands to regard the assembled mechs. "They transported more energon than we knew they had."

Ironhide grimaced at that. 

Ultra Magnus shifted in his seat. "How much?"

The black and white tactician didn't even look at the datapads as he stated a number that sent a chill throughout the room.

I shared a long look with Ultra Magnus, wondering just how in the pit the Ark crew had missed that much missing energon.

Optimus tucked his steepled fingers under his chin, his optics dimmed as he regarded the table in front of him. "Would the _Xantium_ be up to a trip back to Cybertron, Ultra Magnus?"

I stiffened as Ultra Magnus answered positively.

"We just got here, Prime. You're not thinking about sending us away already?" I grinned at the big red and blue mech, ignoring the not-so-gentle nudge I received from Ultra Magnus.

Optimus chuckled. "No, Springer." He turned his head to glance at Jazz. "Jazz, you and Bumblebee will be accompanying me, and a small contingent, to Cybertron. If the Decepticons have anything planned I want them found."

Jazz hummed. "Wouldn't 'Raj be handy for that, Prime?"

"Not all of the Decepticons left. I want him to remain here and look for any remaining strongholds. The Predacons and the Terrorcons were conspicuous in their absence, and I don't doubt they're not the only ones."

A nod of the black-helmed head was quickly followed by a sharp glance in Prowl's direction. "We should prob'ly take Prowlie with us. He knows what I can do, and can plan for just about any contingency."

Prowl's doorwings lifted and he stared sedately at Jazz, before he nodded. "I agree with that assesment, Prime." He turned back to the datapad in front of him, his doorwings twitching as he worked the stylus over the small screen.

Prime's mask dropped in a frown and he looked to the CMO. "Ratchet?"

"As long as he gets plenty of rest, I see no reason why he shouldn't go." A scowl pressed the corners of his lips down. "Especially since I can't even seem to keep him out of simple, fragging meetings."

Optimus' optics glinted knowingly. "Your presence would also be appreciated, in the event he should have a relapse."

A smirk spread on the medic's face. "And to make sure the slagger follows doctor's orders."

Another chuckle rumbled from Optimus' frame. "That, too." He turned once again to the tactician. "Prowl, who else would you suggest?"

The stylus tapped against the datapad as he ticked off names. "Ironhide, both in his function as Chief of Security and his capabilities as a warrior. If we are to do without Mirage, I would like Hound to accompany us, on the off chance we'll need him to scout an area. Cliffjumper's abilities would be a great asset to our mission. The Dinobots, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker-"

"No."

Prowl paused and looked up at both Optimus and Jazz.

I was surprised that _both _of them had made an objection.

Jazz and Optimus looked at each other in the same surprise that I'm sure everyone felt. Typical of him, Optimus nodded for Jazz to go first.

"They're too hot-tempered for what we need. Cliffjumper's hot-headed enough, but he listens to orders for the most part, and won't get himself needlessly slagged. We'll have the Dinobots for that anyways. Besides, we don't want to leave Earth completely defenseless." A teasing grin broke across Jazz's face as he pointedly looked at our end of the table.

"My Wreckers would make mincement of any of the Decepticons left on Earth."

Optimus nodded his agreement with Jazz, but didn't give voice to his own reason for refusing to allow the twins to accompany them.

Prowl stared at his datapad, his doorwings stiff behind him, and his mouth drawn into a straight line.

"Ultra Magnus knows the situation on Cybertron better than he does the one here on Earth. Surely he would be better suited to the task than myself."

I had to replay that, because I certainly didn't think I'd heard him right. _Prowl_ was _refusing_ a mission, he was _refusing _work? Alright, where was Prowl, and what did the Decepticons do with him?

"You have plenty of time to update Ultra Magnus on our situation here, Prowl. He doesn't know Jazz's techniques like you do. He is needed here, on Earth, to direct the construction of Autobot City."

Ultra Magnus grimaced, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. The three of us looked at each other, all wondering the same thing. What the slag was going on between Optimus and Prowl. And, from the tight set of his lips, what the slag did Jazz have to do with it? Then I recalled the signs I'd seen that all might not be right in black and white land. It would be typical of Optimus to try and mend things between his two officers.

"Wheeljack, how long is the construction likely to take?"

The quiet engineer tapped his mask. "It should only take about a metacycle, for the actual construction. The delicate circuitry and the transformation cogs will likely take the longest to fabricate and install. Two metacycles and the City will be fully operational."

Optimus nodded. "We'll be at a very vulnerable level with most of our focus on the construction of the City. There will be humans involved as well, and I don't want an attack on the city to endanger any innocent lives. We have to be aware of the Decepticons' every move for the next two metacycles. Prowl, get with Ultra Magnus and give him the latest sitrep. Then I want you to go over the Xantium with Perceptor and give me an optimal date for departure. While I don't want to wait too long, I believe that once construction begins, we should be ready to go. Base your time table on that. Also, compile a complete list of required personnel for the mission. Ratchet, Ironhide put together a requisition list, we know we'll need to be there for two metacycles at the least, but I would plan for longer. The less runs we have to make back to Earth, the better. Dismissed."

My optics were on Prowl as he stood, his normal neutral expression on his face. I glanced at Ultra Magnus for any clue of what he thought the tactician might be feeling. The corners of the unit commander's lips pulled down in a small frown. He caught my gaze and shook his head, as unsure of what was going on as I was, his face smoothing away all emotion. 

The tactician disappeared and the black and white saboteur followed soon after. I didn't expect to find them around the corner when I left the conference room. They stood close together, Prowl pressing Jazz into the wall by sheer presence, voices hissing in a soft, but heated argument

"-what the _slag_ do you think you're fragging doing-" Prowl saw me and stopped midsentence. 

I couldn't keep the slight shock off my face at hearing Prowl, of all mechs, swearing. His hand on Jazz's shoulder strut relaxed, but I could see the dents he left in the metal.

Jazz looked at me and a grin twitched his lips. "Blaster thinks the 'Cons leavin, and y'all comin's a reason to celebrate. Whatcha think, Springer?"

"Hey, I'll take any reason to party. That hasn't changed." I paused as a thought occurred to me. "As long as we can celebrate somewhere that has more space than the rec room."

Jazz snickered. "I'll be sure ta pass that on t' Blaster." Jazz slipped his hand around Prowl's waist, earning a glower from the tactician. "Are you comin' t' the party, Prowlie?" 

"Not likely. I have a lot to do to get ready for the mission." The black and white Enforcer pulled out of Jazz's reach, and walked stiffly away.

Jazz followed the tactician with his hidden optics, his expression inscrutable, and then he turned to me, that forced grin once again in place. "That guy can't relax for all the energon on Earth." 

* * *

It had been a long, long time since I last had the pleasure of being at one of Blaster's parties. It almost seemed like it had been forever. The lights and music underneath the Earth's night-cycle sky warmed up the chill in the night. The high grade in my hand warmed up my systems.

You were out here, talking with First Aid over by the bar Blaster had set up outside. 

Arcee touched my arm. "You really need to let it go. It hurts me to see you like this, Springer."

I grimaced, moving away from her touch as You looked my way. "I don't want to leave things like they are." 

I tore my gaze away from You, trying to find another focal point for my attention.

A flash of black and white catches my optics, and I look, expecting to see Jazz. But, no, it's Prowl, talking softly with Ultra Magnus, both with a cube in their hand. What was Prowl doing here when he'd said he wouldn't make an appearance?

I tell myself that was the reason I headed over there. It had nothing to do with You being in between me, and said destination.

I could feel Your optics on me, and I was even aware of First Aid's shy retreat. I stopped by You, still not looking at You. I could hear the growl of Your engine as You turned to walk away.

"Sunny-"

Suddenly You were in my face again, shoving me roughly away. "Don't call me that, fragger. I hate that stupid name, and you know it. What makes you think you have the right to call me that?"

"Sunstreaker-"

I felt Arcee's presence behind me. '_No, don't do this.'_

Her hand tugged on my elbow. "You're Sunstreaker? Springer's had a lot to say about you." She reached past me, hand extended in a congenial greeting.

You glared at Arcee.

:_Sparklet, you don't want to be doing this, right now._:

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she said, not responding to me.

Your gaze lifted to my face and Your optics widened, comprehension dawning in slack disbelief. "A femme..."

Arcee's hand twitched.

Before either of us could react, You grabbed her hand and wrenched her out from behind me. 

"A femme!" You bellow. "You traded me in to bond with a slagging hub!"

Suddenly You had something to take out Your pent-up anger on. You turned on Arcee, ignoring her demands to be released, and striking her down. She jumped back up, anger spiking through our bond, flashing in her optics. You blocked her retaliation with disgusting ease. 

I didn't hesitate an astrosecond longer.

Sunny, some part of me might still love You.

But that's my bondmate Your hurting. 

Everything You could never be.

She is. 

He is.

For Hot Rod is right beside me, pulling, punching kicking.

You are the past.

They are my future. 

* * *

AN: Hubs- Trying to figure out the exact relationship between Springer, Hot Rod, and Arcee, I debated whether or not it should be only one of the two, or both. Then Bluestreak made a bit of a deal out of Prime and Ironhide being with femmes, and so I had to ponder what made the females so special.

In this fic, femmes are able to bond to multiple mechs. While they are bonded to the mechs, the mechs are not necessarily bonded to each other (hence why Springer had to reach through Arcee to reach Hot Rod). It comes from a time when the mechs would contribute their spark energy to the 'Hubs' as a form of reproduction. Though with the rarity of femmes, it's now considered archaic and unreliable. 

I should have done this some time ago. ;; Here's the time units I use.

Metacycle-13 months  
Breem- 8.3 minutes  
Vorn- 83 years  
Decacycle- 3 weeks  
Stellar Cycle- 7.5 months  
Megacycle- 93 hours  
Klick- 1.2 minutes  
Astrosecond- .04 seconds  
Cycle- 1.25 hours  
Orn- 37 years


	22. Take Off

Take Off

* * *

Sideswipe was listening, without really paying attention, to a conversation between Bluestreak and a fast-talking Autobot that had come on the Xantium. Somewhere in the midst of the incoherent speed-talking he thought he'd caught the mech's name as Blurr.

He stayed only because it put him at an angle to watch Prowl surreptitiously.

The tactician stood with Ultra Magnus, the bright lights radiating off his white paint, and creating an ethereal glow in counterpoint to his black accents. If Sideswipe tilted his head just so, he could hear Prowl's precise voice, and he let it roll over his sensors, inundating every linked system. He wished it was him over there, listening to Prowl. He couldn't restrain the jealousy he felt for Ultra Magnus; the unit commander seemed to be happy just to spend time with Prowl.

He wished he could be so open, and he wished that he didn't envy the unit commander. It took an effort to remind himself that Ultra Magnus would only ever be able to look, Prowl had broken off their relationship vorn before he'd started the one with the red twin. He clenched his fist as he remembered the time that Prowl used to turn to his former lover in the times that Sideswipe had been damaged. It had been one of the few times that he'd lost his temper with the tactician, but Sunstreaker had gotten there first.

Those thoughts only made him ache more for the Datsun's presence at his side. It would be a balm after Sunstreaker's grating company for the past day. Even if it meant that they'd get into an argument; he wanted to be able to talk to his lover. He could tell Prowl was agitated by the set of his door wings. He wondered if it had something to do with the restrictions imposed by Ratchet, at least the ones he'd heard threatened. It would be like Prowl to evade Ratchet's orders in some way. The tactician hated to be idle as much as Sideswipe, himself, did.

He should go over and tease Prowl. He had not tried to cover up the fact that he had been listening in on Ratchet's reprimand.

He made to excuse himself from the two talkers when a roar suddenly overlaid the party's general chatter.

Programming had him looking up, scanning the skies for a Decepticon presence.

Then the noise filtered through his audio receptors and he turned toward a sudden commotion by the bar.

"You traded me in to bond to a slagging hub!"

Flame red and forest green swept about a golden form. The pink in the midst of it all rolled out of the fray, only to gain its feet and leap right back in with an angry shout.

He only processed the scene for an astrosecond before he shoved his way through the swiftly gathering crowd. He only hesitated long enough to find an opening before he threw himself in.

He caught Hot Rod around the middle, flipping the other mech over his shoulder before he went after the femme, kicking her off Sunstreaker's back. Springer turned on him long enough to kick his feet out from under him; the vicious, thruster-powered kick bent the support struts in his lower leg.

Hot Rod and the pink femme-he thought he heard her name as RC- charged him. They threw him to his back again. Hot Rod pinned the red twin to the ground. RC turned and lunged for Sunstreaker's legs, grabbing at his knees and pushing them in. He toppled to the ground arms wheeling in a vain effort to catch his balance.

Sideswipe vented harshly, wriggling for leverage against the flame-painted chestplate. He gathered his knees to his chestplate and shoved the other mech off. He rolled to his feet, whipping out his gun.

A black barrel stared him straight in the face, and he froze.

"Now, I think, that we're getting off on a bad fuse, here." Springer's sure voice grunted with the effort of holding Sunstreaker down.

Sideswipe's gaze swept down to his brother as he heard the give of metal plates.

Springer held Sunstreaker with his arms twisted behind his back, face shoved into the ground. Even so, Sideswipe could see the white fury in the golden Lamborghini's optics. Hear the snarled moan of a mech pushed beyond the edge.

"Get your slagging hands _off_ my brother, Springer." Sideswipe glared with all the rage that echoed from Sunstreaker.

Hot Rod narrowed his optics, shifting his grip on the gun he had pointed at Sideswipe's face.

"That's enough!"

"Everybody stand down!"

No one moved a servo, each waiting for the other to give ground.

"Hot Rod, Arcee lower your weapons. Springer, _on your feet_."

Two of the guns lowered, but neither Arcee nor Hot Rod relaxed their stance, ready to bring their arms back up.

Springer untangled his arms, and scrambled away from Sunstreaker, before the golden Lamborghini had a chance to roll a punch into his face. A very real threat as the warrior shoved himself up and swung around, fist raised.

Ventilators worked to draw in the cool night air for heated systems. Sideswipe watched as his brother stood, glaring at Springer.

Sunstreaker never even looked at his scratched paint, his dented plating, nor utter a word of complaint.

Prowl stood with Ultra Magnus, both with their arms crossed; Prowl with his door wings flared, and Ultra Magnus with his chin tucked down. Their bright optics and stern scowls bode ill for the five brawlers.

"What is the meaning of this?" Prowl snapped, his gaze locking on the two Lamborghinis with silent reproach.

Ultra Magnus simply frowned. "Springer?" That one word managed to convey question, accusation, and surprise rolled into one neat package.

Four out of the five Autobots scowled at each other. Sideswipe shrugged, waiting for one of the others to speak up.

"Space will be tight enough without fights occurring among the crews. We are all Autobots. Let's act like it, and not oversized organic young." Prowl's gaze encompassed all five of the miscreants, but his attention focused mostly on the two Ark members.

Ultra Magnus shifted his weight. "We won't be worrying about where to put three of you, at least." The frown on his face, and the tilt of his head showed his displeasure with this. "You're all going to the brig."

Prowl's gaze swept over them again, and then centered on Sunstreaker. "Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, you heard the mech, get going."

Sideswipe lurched forward, feeling the effect of his damaged leg. Sunstreaker stomped on ahead of him, fists clenched at his side.

Still without a word about his dented and scratched frame.

"Springer, a word with you before you three go." Ultra Magnus' voice rumbled with irate indignation.

The red twin didn't even slow down as he caught a familiar paint job walking by his side. It eased something within him to finally have his lover there, even if Prowl was blowing exhaust over the whole ordeal. He slowed down purposefully to allow the tactician a chance to gain another step.

"I hope that you can keep your sparkling tendencies under control while Ultra Magnus is in charge," the black and white mech said, after they'd passed open hangar doors that served as the entrance to the Autobot base.

"Why? Planning on taking a vacation now that someone's here to relieve you?" Sideswipe slowed again, exaggerating the limp.

Prowl glanced down at his leg, and looked back up at Sideswipe from under his chevron. "If you're that damaged, you should see Ratchet before you go to the brig."

Engine grumbling, Sideswipe affected a sudden stagger that knocked his shoulder into Prowl. "Shut up, _sir." _He straightened, swinging arms negligently brushing Prowl's doorwing.

"Shall I add insubordination to an officer to your steadily growing list of charges?" A slight misstep in the rhythm of his steps, and the tactician was out of Sideswipe's immediate reach.

Sideswipe glanced back, frowning at Prowl's neutral face. "Insubordination? That wasn't insubordination, _sir. _That was well-intentioned, good-natured, friendly, not to mention humorous banter." He put on a wide grin in response to the tactician's frown.

Prowl looked at the warrior at an angle from under his chevron, tilting his mouth in an oblique smile. "Nothing you ever do is ever well-intentioned or good-natured, Sideswipe. And you know perfectly well that I do not have a sense of humor." He quickened his pace and drew up beside the red Lamborghini. "When you get out of the brig tomorrow, you will be heading straight to the forward compartments to clean the bulkheads."

"Oh, Primus like I don't have anything better to do."

Truthfully his systems picked up at the prospect. There were no cameras toward the front of the ship, because they had never had the chance repair the faulty wiring.

It was one of the few places inside the Ark itself they could meet without too much fear being discovered.

He almost forgot to limp.

Ever since they'd spoken to Jazz, their meetings seemed to have become fewer and farther between. More so than normal.

And when they did meet...

Sideswipe felt like an aft.

The signs had been there, but his firewall had been set too high to see it. Prowl's reticence to initiate interface should have told him something was wrong. He looked back and he could see that Prowl had been defensive, a little more withdrawn than normal, spooked. Sideswipe's touch had made his lover uncomfortable, and Sideswipe felt like a stupid, slagging _aft_ not to have realized it. Perhaps the biggest indication, which Sideswipe had stupidly not pressed for an explanation, was when Prowl had pulled out the manacles, and used field manipulation.

His fuel tank churned as he looked back on those times in this new light.

He glanced back at Prowl, and the tactician's optics glowed brightly back at him. His lover seemed to be recovering, now that Sideswipe knew what to look for. The spring was back in his step, and his doorwings rode high on his shoulders. Sideswipe had stopped pressing himself on Prowl, letting the tactician recover at his own pace. It gave the second-in-command a sense of control that soothed his frayed circuits.

"You don't have anything better to do, unless it's an assignment. And since I handle all of your assignments, you have nothing better to do." Prowl's flicked his doorwings, a dismissive gesture from any other mech. Sideswipe, however, read the joke, the humor in the angle of their brief decline.

"Aw come on, don't you have a patrol route that needs to be covered?" Sideswipe flashed his most put-out look. "Or something?"

The black and white mech tilted his chevron. "No, I'm sure that all patrol routes will have excess coverage for quite some time."

"Which is why you're taking your vacation?" Sideswipe asked, returning the original topic of their conversation. Sunstreaker waited for them at the entrance to the brig. He glared at the door, bouncing on his heels impatiently.

There was a moment of silence, during which the red twin could make out the soft sigh of a ventilator. He turned a little at that, wondering what was on the tactician's mind.

"War does not allow for a vacation, Sideswipe." Prowl hastened his pace. "Some of the crew is being reassigned to patrol Cybertron."

"Oh, really?"

The tactician stepped past the red mech, his doorwing banging against Sideswipe's shoulder tire. He glanced up at Sideswipe, and then looked to Sunstreaker.

"Hey, Sunny, sounds like we're going to-"

"You're not going."

Sideswipe looked at Prowl in surprise. "But we're your best front liners..."

Prowl frowned at Sideswipe, his optics bright. "And you're too reckless." He paused, his doorwings drawing back while he considered his next words. "Jazz doesn't think you're suited for what he needs, and Prime agrees."

Sideswipe's optics widened. '_Jazz?'_

"You mean, we're stuck on this slagging _dirtball_, while you guys go have all the fun?" Sunstreaker's fingers creaked as he clenched his fists.

Prowl keyed in the entry code and gestured for the twins to precede him. "I highly doubt it will be much fun, Sunstreaker." He entered the brig, heading for the cells practically assigned to the twins.

Sideswipe frowned down at the black and white mech. "This was Jazz's idea?"

Prowl paused just in front of the red mech. "I do know Jazz's techniques and methods better than anyone. Besides, I imagine that Prime doesn't want to split us apart. I believe he is trying to do us a favor."

Sideswipe stared at the white helm as Prowl opened Sunstreaker's cell. Prowl wasn't one to imagine, or believe. Anger sparked in his circuits as he took in Prowl's words. He looked up at his brother, but Sunstreaker stared at the wall, no doubt imagining someone else.

"Can't..." Black hands clenched. "Can't you talk Prime into letting us go?"

Sunstreaker's bars came online just as the main door opened to admit Ultra Magnus. The unit commander came into the brig, Springer, Hot Rod and Arcee on his heels. Springer glanced at Sideswipe, but turned his head away from Sunstreaker. The other two openly glared as Ultra Magnus took them farther into the brig and opened three adjacent cells.

The red twin didn't have to look at his brother to know the anger that smoldered there. "You don't want to leave Sunny here with them, Prowl. This would be just the beginning," Sideswipe turned to Ultra Magnus, trying to appeal to the large truck for the sake of his subordinates.

Prowl gestured Sideswipe into his own cell. He glanced at the large blue mech briefly. "I will consider your request."

The two officers left after settling their charges in.

Sideswipe vented a sigh, hearing nothing but Sunstreaker's deadly silence next to him. He went to the wall, and leaned against it. He sifted through Prowl's words, not wanting to miss anything his lover said. Not wanting to add anything that wasn't there. He buzzed in annoyance as Sunstreaker continued his silent vigil of the other three occupants, even if he couldn't see them.

Sideswipe knew that his brother was a coiled spring ready to snap into action at an astrosecond's notice. The golden warrior listened for anything, ready to react.

"Fraggit, Sunny.."

A soft scrape of metal on metal was the only clue that his brother was listening.

"Just what the _slag_ was all that about, anyways?"

* * *

Ironhide and Jazz waited for Ultra Magnus and Prowl to come out of the brig. The Security Officer wore a scowl fit to set circuits on fire. Jazz stepped forward first.

"What's with your breaking protocol to escort them down to the brig by yourself, Prowlie? 'Sides ain't ya supposed to be off the duty roster, unless it's related to the mission." Jazz reached out to draw the tactician closer.

Prowl tensed as he stepped into the circle of Jazz's arm. "I am perfectly capable of escorting two miscreants to the brig, Jazz."

"Those two?" Something akin to a growl rumbled through the saboteur's frame. "We all know how unpredictable they can be Prowlie," Jazz rapped the back of his fingers against Prowl's bumper, "especially Sunny when he's in a temper."

Prowl slipped out from under the Porsche's arm, holding his doorwings up and forward. "Do you doubt my ability that much, Jazz?"

Jazz frowned. "Nah, man, that ain't what I meant. I'm just sayin' that they got a temper." His visor tilted and dimmed as he narrowed his optics. "After all, they're yer best front liners, righ'? They've both done some serious damage to some of the crew."

Prowl stiffened, holding his doorwings from drawing back, and rerouting the power that wanted to blaze in his optics. "If nothing is done to provoke them, then usually there is no problem." He turned to Ironhide. "Sideswipe will be cleaning the bulkheads in the forward compartments when he gets out tomorrow."

The Security Officer nodded. "Sure thing Prowl, but I gotta say, I completely agree with Jazz. Ya shouldn't be breakin' protocol like that. Especially when Sunny's in a mood-"

Prowl lifted his brow ridges. "Has he ever attacked you when you were escorting him to the brig?"

"Well, no... But he puts up one pit of a fight..." Ironhide shifted uncomfortably.

"That's only when you handle him roughly, and scratch his paint, Ironhide." Prowl tilted his head, optics flashing. "It's simply a matter of knowing the mech you're dealing with." His brow ridge lifted. "Surely, you would have learned that by now." Prowl looked up at the bigger mech evenly. "I'm certain you will have Sideswipe's cleaning supplies ready for tomorrow."

The Security Officer rumbled affirmatively and moved down the hall.

"I guess I gotta scat if I'm gonna get ready for my own work tomorrow." Jazz tilted a speculative frown at the tactician, and Prowl returned the regard coolly. The saboteur leaned toward the tactician, his ventilations a soft puff of air on Prowl's lips.

Prowl stood stock still, fingers digging into his thigh. '_Part of the arrangement_,' he told himself, '_part of our cover._' They would continue the charade of being partners until such a time as Prowl reasoned they could end it without drawing suspicion. No matter how many times he told himself that, he couldn't suppress the discomfort that came from Jazz's face hovering so close to his own.

The saboteur didn't say anything about Prowl's relationship with Sideswipe. They wouldn't imply that he'd known about it for far longer than he truly had, nor would they say that Jazz had done such an unsavory thing as to blackmail and rape his fellow Autobot, much less a ranking officer.

Jazz tilted his audio horns toward Ultra Magnus, in silent reminder of the show they needed to put on, his fingers curling over the tactician's shoulder tires. The saboteur scooted another step closer, covering Prowl's lips with his own. One of the black hands slid around the tactician's neck, resting lightly even as he pulled Prowl in to deepen the kiss. Prowl's systems churned with remembered helplessness and that feeling burned through his circuits.

Jazz tucked their chestplates together, his hands far gentler than they ever were when he had control of their relationship. Prowl had to suppress the tremor that wanted to shake through his frame, he'd almost preferred Jazz's rough handling to this newfound tenderness. A caress along his bumper was the final straw.

Prowl's doorwings angled back, and his optics burned. He turned his head away from Jazz, making sure not to look toward Ultra Magnus. "I don't like public displays, Jazz. You know this." He did his best not to spit those words out, but his vocalizer still buzzed with emotion.

The normally jovial mech smiled bitterly. "Don't like public displays? Or don't like displays in front'a Ultra Magnus?" Jazz released him and turned with a wave toward the unit commander.

Prowl watched the black and white saboteur walk down the hall, trying to quell the unease that grated through him.

"If you don't like him touching you, why are you with him?"

Prowl felt his systems seized at that softly delivered query. He turned toward Ultra Magnus, forcing his doorwings down into a more relaxed position. His optics still burned and he looked away quickly. "I just don't like public displays."

The big blue mech gave a noncommittal hum that made Prowl cringe.

"You're not jealous, are you?" Prowl allowed a partial smile to pull at his mouth.

Ultra Magnus didn't even reset his optics. "Hardly. Merely expressing concern for a friend. You don't normally stay in situations that you can't control." He tilted his head, frown in place.

"All relationships have their rusty spots, Magnus. Especially so for one between two mechs like myself and Jazz." Prowl offered up a smile for his friend. He could equally compare it to the relationship he shared with Sideswipe, though it made his logic circuits ache to do so. They were so different, and yet managed to maintain a healthy relationship, excepting recent occurrences.

Ultra Magnus' gaze drifted from Prowl to the closed door, and his lips pulled down again. "His baseless accusation about Sideswipe?"

Prowl gestured Ultra Magnus ahead of him. "That is a part of it. My inability to remove myself from the Ark has not been of any help to us. And their constant trouble is what lead to the accusation."

The big blue mech drew his stare from the closed brig door and to turn it on the tactician. "That might also be why Optimus didn't want them accompanying you to Cybertron."

Prowl paused, glad that Ultra Magnus wasn't looking his way to see the flickering emotion on his face. "I... hadn't thought of that." Maybe Prime didn't know the truth? It was a dim hope that his battle computer darkened with its pessimistic view.

Since when did he view the truth that was in his numbers as anything less than fact?

He turned his processor from those illogical thoughts. Instead he began considering Sideswipe's request. He had intended to attempt to persuade Optimus anyways, but it was good to know that the warrior wanted to accompany them. Should he have ever doubted Sideswipe?

Ultra Magnus' quiet presence at his shoulder reminded Prowl that he was supposed to be giving the unit commander a sit rep. His doorwings dipped a little in embarrassment as he turned to Ultra Magnus with an apology.

"It's okay, I could see that your processor was on something else." The big mech was silent as he followed the tactician into his office. "Prowl…" Ultra Magnus paused as though uncertain of how to approach the topic that cycled in his circuits.

Prowl paused in rounding his desk, turning his full attention on his vorns-old friend, his former lover. He waited patiently as his less verbose comrade processed his words.

"Prowl," Ultra Magnus began again, "lying to Jazz is not a healthy way to maintain a relationship. If you have your optics on someone else, then you shouldn't stay with him," Ultra Magnus vaguely jerked his head to indicate Jazz.

Prowl quietly regarded the big blue mech. Ultra Magnus suspected; Prowl knew this. Ultra Magnus knew Prowl like no other, besides perhaps Sideswipe. It would be logical to assume that he would see signs that Prowl could not hide. Ultra Magnus would also know that Prowl knew that the unit commander suspected. Prowl knew Ultra Magnus well enough, that he knew as long as nothing was said directly about the matter, Ultra Magnus would not feel obliged to say anything to Prime. It was a mutual, wordless understanding between the two mechs.

"I appreciate the advice, Ultra Magnus, but," _'Jazz knows'_ would be too close to revealing the truth, "I have my reasons for staying with Jazz at the moment. Once they are sorted out, we will mutually end the relationship." He completed the circuit of his desk to sit in his chair, giving him access to the controls and the files within Teletraan-1's databanks. He didn't miss the unit commander's narrow-eyed gaze, or the thin frown Ultra Magnus sent his way. "You are here for that sit rep. There's a lot to go through, and I still have my own work to take care of."

Ultra Magnus took the chair opposite Prowl. "Take your time, Prowl. The night cycle has just started."

Prowl went over the information with Ultra Magnus, pausing every so often to clear one of his datapads. Even as he did so, he organized an argument for bringing the twins to Cybertron. The topic carried him into restless recharge and he onlined to muffled shouting with the problem still running through his battle computer. A query sent to Ironhide confirmed that it was just the brig residents. Apparently Sunstreaker had finally broken his silent fuming, forcing Prowl forced to deal with that, starting the day cycle earlier than he might have liked.

He didn't dare try to rationalize his reasons for convincing Optimus. His battle computer wouldn't be able to withstand the largely emotional decision.

So he found himself bringing his daily report to Optimus, the datapad clenched tightly in his grasp. He held his doorwings at a stiffly neutral position, doing his best not to let his agitation show. Bringing up Sideswipe and Sunstreaker with Optimus Prime could quite likely cause more trouble than Prowl wanted. Yet he could not rest easy with the knowledge that Jazz would be accompanying the mission in their place.

He handed the datapad to the Autobot Commander, outlining the most relevant bits of information aloud. Optimus nodded, drumming his fingers on the energon cube sitting on his desk, his optics already scanning the datapad. Prowl waited, unusually nervous about speaking to his commander. Prime looked up, seeming to realize that Prowl still lingered. His hand pulled away from the energon cube, and he clasped his hands in front of himself, his gaze relentlessly pounding into Prowl's optics. "Did you need something, Prowl?"

Prowl mentally squared his shoulders. "I wish to ask you to reconsider taking Sideswipe and Sunstreaker along."

Prime drew back, his optics dimming.

Prowl continued on, determined not to let Optimus shut him out without even being heard. "Allowing them to take part in the mission could increase the success rate of any battles by ninety-three percent. They are our best front liners for a reason, Optimus. The Dinobots are too inexperienced, and unfamiliar with Cybertron's terrain, their rashness is actually more of a detriment than you might realize. Their presence decreases the success of a battle by twenty percent. Cliffjumper is also known for his rashness and there's a forty-six percent chance that he will disobey orders and need rescuing."

Prime's vocalizer buzzed in a polite attempt to halt Prowl, but the tactician plowed on.

"If last night is any indication, the likelihood of Sunstreaker repeating his attack upon Springer or his bondmates is eighty-seven percent. Taking both him and Sideswipe out of the equation will allow Ultra Magnus' unit to acclimate to Earth that much more quickly. " Prowl paused, only long enough to draw his doorwings higher on his shoulders. "Sideswipe's jetpack will be of great use in patrolling Cybertron-"

"Prowl," Optimus cut in, silencing the tactician just as much with his stern gaze as with his powerful tone, "I don't believe you are looking at this objectively enough."

Prowl tensed, doorwings riding higher on his shoulders. "I don't understand what you mean, sir."

The Autobot Commander leaned forward, his optics flashing. "You are certain there is no ulterior motive behind Sunstreaker or Sideswipe joining the mission?"

Prowl stared at Prime wordlessly for a brief astrosecond. Guilt churned through his processor and chipped away at the fine balance between his emotional programming and his battle computer. He hated lying to his commander. That it hadn't been uncovered after all this time was almost beyond the comprehension of his battle computer, even though he had used it to avoid detection. He hated breaking Prime's trust like this. "No Prime, there are no ulterior motives behind my suggestion."

The Autobot Commander was silent for a breem, his thumbs tapping together as he regarded his second-in-command. "Very well, then Prowl. The front line has not moved. Earth is still in danger with the Decepticons here. This is the perfect opportunity for the Dinobots to learn about warfare on Cybertron. You know their vagaries so much better than Ultra Magnus, I suspect that you'll be able to up those odds to a more acceptable percent. As for the display last night, I'm certain that Ultra Magnus knows how to deal with delinquent soldiers. They are two soldiers, when I am asking him to build a city. If I didn't think he could handle Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, I would never have suggested he take this endeavor himself."

"I'm sorry, Prowl, but my answer is still no."

* * *

Sideswipe quietly scrubbed the walls, his headlights and optics the only illumination for him to see by. As he scrubbed at the bulkhead, he ran his fingers over the long grooves that dented the metal. He could tell, by the shape, and the depth which ones were his; which were made by Prowl. Prowl's slighter hands, more suited to the dexterity required in handling a gun, and datawork, left shallower, narrow grooves. Sideswipe paused, his optics darkening as he splayed his hand over a palm print. His hand easily covered the mark, but the memory of how it got there, how Prowl had writhed over him, white hand slamming into the wall, turned his engine.

Down here, they could meet. Down here, they could enjoy one another's presence almost without worry of being discovered. Those who did happen upon them could easily mistake Prowl for the similarly shaped gunner, as this was an occasional meeting place for Sideswipe and Bluestreak

Down here, he could be away from the brig, where Sunstreaker was likely still having a shouting match with Springer, and the other two. It had earned all four of them extra time, because their shouting could be heard throughout a good portion of the ship. Granted Sideswipe had joined in for a while, but soon he just huddled in the corner, covering his audio horns, which is how Ironhide found him when the security officer came to pull him out.

His receptors still buzzed from their shouting.

He took a moment to swipe at one of his jointed horns.

Hands abruptly slammed him into the wall, and a shorter mech pressed against him,

"I sent you down here to clean the bulkheads, not yourself," a voice rumbled in his audio horns. The white hands moved from his shoulder plates to his sides, digging into the seams there.

"But I was in a fight yesterday and haven't had a chance to clean up." Still pressed into the wall, he reached up with the scrubpad to swipe at his cheekguard. "I'm just doing what I can now, while nobody's looking."

The weight lifted off the warrior's back and a hand touched his arm in a silent request for Sideswipe to turn. The red twin obliged, wrapping an arm around his lover's shoulders and pulling Prowl in for a hug.

Prowl, however, pushed away, his optics dim, although he kept his hands on the red twin. "I can't stay." Despite his words, the white hands grasped Sideswipe's cheekguards, pulling the warrior's head down for a kiss. Prowl indulged for a breem or two, lips moving needfully; sensuous in a way that made Sideswipe twinge with regret. He had almost been no better than Jazz in the way that he had expected Prowl to give without objection. His grip on the tactician's arms tightened as he returned the kiss.

"Then why did you come down here?" he murmured just before Prowl pulled away.

The black and white doorwings flicked irritably. "I didn't want you to think that I was forgetting you." His gaze focused on the wall behind Sideswipe. "I was unable to talk Prime into letting you and Sunstreaker come. I'm sorry."

Sideswipe leaned his head back, not letting go of his lover's shoulder struts. "Does he know, Prowl? I thought you said he didn't believe Jazz."

"I said that Jazz provided no evidence to his accusation. Prime is suspicious, but that is all." He gently pulled Sideswipe's hands away from his arms. "I need to return."

"Why aren't you recharging?" Sideswipe could hear every motor in Prowl's body seize, even though he still stared at the ceiling. He glanced down at his lover, watching the tactician's optics dim.

"I..." he hesitated, doorwings drooping as Sideswipe watched him struggle to put words to his feelings. "It's hard to explain. It makes..." His brow furrowed and he looked up at Sideswipe. "It makes no logical sense."

Sideswipe crossed his arms over his chestplate, and leaned his shoulders into the bulkhead behind him. This was typical; Prowl, normally an eloquent speaker, had trouble putting words to his emotions. Especially ones that came out of nowhere, such as his initial attraction to Sideswipe. It tested Sideswipe's not-so-limitless patience. "Try."

"It's Jazz…"

Sideswipe straightened, optics blazing, vocalizer hissing with static. "What'd that fragger do, this time, Prowl? We had an agreement!"

Prowl frowned, his optics flashing at the Lamborghini's interruption. "Do not interrupt me, Sideswipe. I don't have the time to argue with you. He has done nothing untoward since we made that agreement." Prowl turned to look down the hallway, his doorwings flicking. "And remember, that although he agreed, it was not willingly." His voice muted to a bare whisper that Sideswipe had to strain to hear. "Not with you and Sunstreaker standing on either side, having beaten him to slag." He turned his gaze back on the warrior. "You are aware that he approached me in my quarters?" He barely waited for Sideswipe's nod before he plowed on, glancing down the corridor again. "When I try to recharge, I can _feel_ him touching me. It's as though he is there on the berth with me and I have to activate my optics to prove to my mind that he's not." Prowl edged away from Sideswipe. "It's not logical, not at all."

"Dreams?"

"We do not dream, Sides."

Sideswipe's shoulders sagged helplessly, unsure of what he could do to help his lover. "Why the frag didn't you say anything before? Primus, you've been going the past few decacycles without any recharge. No wonder Ratchet was so fritzed!" Sideswipe grabbed his lovers shoulder tires and shook him. "You need to take better care of yourself!"

Prowl twitched. "It has been over half a stellar cycle since I was able to recharge in my quarters."

Sideswipe's fists tightened. "And you never said anything?"

The tactician tilted his head, shrugging a doorwing. "I was able to relieve some of my need when I was with you. I need to return to my duties." He leaned forward, pulling Sideswipe closer with a light grip on his shoulder. "I will see you later." Prowl brushed light lips across the warrior's own.

Sideswipe swept a hand up to cup the tactician's face, nuzzling Prowl's cheek. "Prime doesn't know, right?"

"He can only suspect, and that is just as bad, Sides. I will not be able to change his mind."

Unwilling to watch his lover walk away yet, Sideswipe grabbed the white hand. "Is your leaving Jazz's suggestion?"

Prowl glanced at Sideswipe's hand on his. "Jazz made a valid point in suggesting my presence on the mission." He eased his hand out of Sideswipe's fingers. "Just as Prime made valid points about not allowing you and Sunstreaker to accompany us." The tactician's demeanor changed, his doorwings rising, and his optics flashing in warning. "I'm sorry, but you'll just have to reason with Sunstreaker if you want peace and quiet."

Sideswipe straightened, scowl in place as Ultra Magnus came into view. The unit commander's large optics widened as he noticed Prowl.

"Optimus is looking for you, Prowl." The carrier's gaze turned to Sideswipe and the warrior snapped about, irritably.

"Fragging have to put up with Sunny, and his stupid issues," Sideswipe grumbled at himself.

He could hear them as they turned a corner. He waited a breem, and then his fist slammed into the wall, adding to the multiple dents already there. "Slag you, Jazz!" he hissed. It would be a gross understatement to say that Jazz and Prowl going to the Moon Bases together, without Sideswipe or even just Sunstreaker, made the red twin uncomfortable. He knew the saboteur had something planned, and he hated what it would cost Prowl to keep up appearances.

* * *

The training room, at the best of times, was hardly quiet. With a second unit in residence, cacophony couldn't begin to describe the its state. Washed and his paint touched up, it was the most logical place for Sideswipe to go. That and Sunstreaker was already there, having finally been let out of the brig.

He paused in seeing Fireflight talking with a large orange triplechanger at the entrance to the training room. He recognized the strange mech as one of the ones that seemed to center themselves around Springer...

Oh, Primus...

Sideswipe pushed past the two flirting mechs, shoving against the triplechanger's shoulder aggressively.

"I hope you realize he hasn't even been aware for a half a vorn yet."

The triplechanger jerked, glancing down at the younger mech. "Say what? Wasn't he part of the original-"

"Nope."

Fireflight glared at Sideswipe, unappreciative of the intrusion. Sideswipe clicked his vocalizer at the young mech, grinning. He threaded his way through the spectators. His tall frame, and the elevated height of the fighting area allowed him to easily view the two mechs tangled together on the mat.

He wasn't entirely surprised to find his brother up there, but he had truthfully expected a green mech with him (maybe red, the pink one was no match for Sunny, and couldn't be stupid enough to try him). Instead a blue-hued mech wrestled Sunstreaker in the ring, Sideswipe caught glimpses of massive drills peeking out from within the mech's leg seams. Another one of those that hung around Springer?

Sideswipe's circuits crawled with unease as he noticed how close the so-called 'Wreckers' were to the ring. He didn't see Springer or either of his bondmates anywhere nearby. An enraged yell attracted his attention back to the ring.

The Wrecker had rammed a fist through the warrior's left foot. Sunstreaker shouted again, wordless and furious; he lashed out with his other foot, snapping the blue mech's head back. The other leapt to his feet and lunged for the golden mech, no longer concerned with training protocols, but driven by anger. They ripped at each other, and the crowd watching them shifted uncertainly.

There was the sound of metal tearing and suddenly another mech (Headspin, wasn't it?) leapt onto the fighting area, throwing himself at Sunstreaker. Sideswipe tensed, watching the two mechs gang up on his brother.

"Sides?"

The red twin glared at gunner. "Don't call me that, _Bluey_." His expression softened at Bluestreak's offended scowl. "What'd you want?"

"You're not going to...?"

Sideswipe turned his face back to the fighting mechs as Sunstreaker threw the new one into the crowd. Bluestreak moved closer, touching Sideswipe's arm.

"They're pretty tough, Sideswipe."

Sideswipe crossed his arms over his chestplate, watching Headspin climb back into the fighting area. "So's Sunny."

Sunstreaker wrenched his first sparring partner around, favoring his left foot. The Wrecker noticed this, and stomped on the damaged foot, eliciting a snarl from Sunstreaker. A golden hand lashed out and glass shattered.

The blue mech cried out, hand going to his optics.

"Twist!" Headspin rushed over to his comrade, pulling the drill's hands away to look at the broken optics. The other's visor flared as he whirled on Sunstreaker. "You slagger! Why'd you go and do that?"

The Lamborghini easily brushed off the white mech's furious punches. "He slagging put a fragging hole in my foot!" Sunstreaker threw himself into a roundhouse kick, the lights flashing off his golden finish in a brilliant display.

Headspin landed with a grunt, sliding to the edge of the mat.

Bluestreak edged closer to the red warrior, his touch turning into a halting grip.

Another blue Autobot pulled himself onto the mat, his monocular gaze flicking from Sunstreaker to the fallen mech, "Heard you couldn't control your temper, Sunny." Sunstreaker tensed at that name. "You really need to learn." The single optic turned to the white mech. "Spin, you okay?"

Sideswipe didn't hear the white mech's answer, as Bluestreak suddenly began speaking again. "You haven't been hearing it, cause you were down in the forward compartments. The Wreckers are fritzed at Sunny because of that fight with Springer and his bondmates. They've been twitching to take him on."

Sideswipe eased away from the doorwing that brushed his shoulder plating. Uncomfortable at the proximity of the grey gunner, yet unable to move away without hurting his occasional lover's feelings, the red twin frowned down at Bluestreak, running his words through his mind.

"What the frag do they care about it? It doesn't concern them."

Bluestreak looked up at the warrior in surprise, forcing Sideswipe to smooth away his frown. "Springer's their leader."

Blue optics widened in realization, and then Sideswipe turned and pulled himself onto the fighting area, suddenly aware of the harsh words passing between Sunstreaker, and the three mechs facing off against him, the orange triplechanger having joined his two comrades.

"Come on you slagging aftheads, I can take you all on!"

Sideswipe pelted toward the sudden brawl throwing himself in without a thought of the consequences. He pulled no punches as he landed hit after hit on anyone that came too close, even the ones trying to break up the fight. Words boomed in his audio horns but so lost in the desire to defend his brother was he, they made no sense. Everything was a blur of metal that bent under his blows, he only cared if it belonged to the three Wreckers.

Large hands suddenly grabbed his arms, yanking him off his feet, and dangling him in the air. He saw the other four participants in the fight in similar positions, each hanging from a Dinobot's hand.

"Me, Grimlock, say, what fight for?" The irritated red-visored gaze swept all five, including the one in his grasp. When no answer came forth, the Dinobot growled in anger. "You not have answer? Talk to him, Ultra Magnus, and him, Prowl, maybe then have answer."

Sideswipe scowled fiercely, meeting his brother's gaze. They both knew what would come of this.

* * *

Sideswipe lost count of the number of times his brother went into the brig. He lost count of who picked what fight, at what time, in what place. He knew that in the past few decacycles Sunstreaker had spent more time in the brig than out, and the constant fighting strained the relationships between the Ark-based Autobots and their Cybertronian reinforcements.

Sideswipe knew, and appreciated, that most of the fights occurred nowhere in the vicinity of the red mech. Sideswipe would never stand by as anyone attacked his brother, and it had landed him in the brig a few times as well.

He actually wouldn't have minded so much, except that disciplinary measures had started to get handed out by Ultra Magnus instead of Prowl, which took away that opportunity to see his lover. The few times he ran across the tactician in the hall, Prowl never even had time to stop and reprimand the warrior for any of his recent, and rather frequent infractions. The medical orders for Prowl to rest seemed to have fallen through the crack while they prepared to leave. Occasionally as he passed by the med bay he could hear Ratchet ranting at Prowl, or Wheeljack when the tactician was scarce, about his orders being so thoroughly disregarded.

The date had been set, and as it drew closer, Sideswipe began to honestly worry that he wouldn't have any time with Prowl before they left. He started to try to arrange time, thinking that Prowl was so caught up in his work he'd forgotten the warrior, but even when the tactician agreed to a rendezvous, he never showed. Quiet inquiries revealed that Prime had Prowl running to and from the local cities at unexpected hours to retrieve necessary supplies or meet with particular people.

He wanted to see Prowl, to touch his doorwings and to hear his voice. Bluestreak was a poor substitute, but it was all he had; hoping that Prowl would have a few cycles free. At the least, there was always after he returned from Cybertron. Or maybe, Sideswipe would be able to join them on the Moon Base.

When he and Sunstreaker received the summons to Prime's office, where Ultra Magnus and Prowl both waited next to Prime's desk, his hope sparked along his circuits, cycling through his processor. Prowl looked up, but turned away just as quickly to speak softly to Ultra Magnus.

"Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, thank you for coming so promptly." The Autobot Commander put aside the datapad he had been working on.

"Oh, you know we like having our recharge disturbed at your leisure, sir. Not like we had anything else planned."

Optimus rumbled in amusement as the other two glared at Sideswipe. "Well, I'm sorry about the odd hour, Sideswipe, but this was the most convenient time for this. I assure you, I would like nothing more than to send you back to your recharge berths and be in my own." Prime tapped his fingers together, his optics turning to Sunstreaker. "Sunstreaker, your inability to peacefully reside with your fellow Autobots has forced me to reconsider the recommendation to allow you to accompany us to Cybertron. Your fights are disturbing even our human visitors, and I will not tolerate that while the City is being built."

Sideswipe rocked forward onto his toe joints, his optics wide with barely contained excitement. Sunstreaker regarded Prime with unconcerned optics, though they flickered briefly at Sideswipe.

"So you're going to let us come to beat up some Cons?" A smile stretched itself across the warrior's face.

Prime's optics darkened. "I asked you to come here, Sideswipe, to make certain that you understood the orders."

Sideswipe's grin melted.

"Sunstreaker will be accompanying us."

"Just Sunstreaker?" the red twin's voice rose into a despondent whine.

Sunstreaker's disinterested air suddenly dissolved and he stood straighter. Arms that had been crossed over his chest dropped to his side. "You can't be serious."

"Yes, and I am." Optimus turned his gaze from one brother to the other and back again. Then his gaze centered on Sideswipe, and the warrior who would happily jump on Starscream midflight, who would willingly and eagerly kick the shins of Devastator, shrank down like a berated child. "I am certain that you both can understand why it is necessary for Sunstreaker to accompany us."

The relentless stare made Sideswipe drop his own optics, looking down at the spotless orange floor. He didn't even dare glance toward Prowl, not with Prime's accusing glare still on him. His fists clenched and he lifted wide, pleading optics to Prime. "You're separating us, Prime?"

Optimus lifted his brow ridge. "Sunstreaker has shown that he cannot work with the mechs based here. You have no such problem."

"Consider it an opportunity to learn and grow, Sideswipe. He can't be there with you forever," Prowl's stern voice suddenly cut in.

Sideswipe shot the Datsun a surprised look, never having expected those words to come from his lover's vocalizer. Prowl's doorwings rose slightly as he frowned at the warrior, but his dim optics put a lie to his body language. Sideswipe didn't know if he could let it go so easily though. They were taking Sunny _away_ from him! "What part of us being twins do you not understand?" Hurt filtered through his hopelessness, and he wondered if this was Prowl's idea; his doing.

Sunstreaker stepped closer to Sideswipe. "I ain't going anywhere without Sideswipe," the golden mech's voice growled, his engine rumbling with ire.

Optimus' turned flashing optics on the other twin. "You are, even if we need to have Ratchet immobilize you and drag you on the shuttle; you are coming."

'_He was mad_,' Sideswipe realized. Prowl was lying to him, and Prime knew this, but had no way of proving it, and he was mad, perhaps even furious. "Is this punishment?" Realizing too late that he'd spoken those words aloud, Sideswipe met Prime's expectant gaze.

"And just what do you think I am punishing you for, Sideswipe?"

Sideswipe caught the briefest of shifts in Prowl's postures, the soft scrape of metal as the black and white doorwings dipped. "You're punishing Sunny, but do you have to hurt me, too?" He didn't even try to keep the hurt out of his vocalizer. "You don't even know how long you'll be gone, do you?" He turned to look at all three of the officers. "Do you?" None of them answered, or even winked an optic. He focused back on Prime, emotions heaving through his circuits and churning through his fuel tanks, panting out of his ventilators; desperation, hopelessness, betrayal. "You'll do this, because those fraggers out there," he jabbed sharply toward the door, "don't know how to talk to Sunny?"

Sunstreaker's fists creaked as he tightened them, never relenting the glare he directed at Prime, not unless it was to direct it at Prowl.

"Because they don't know when it's best to just leave him alone? It's not like he's the only one that's starting those fights, it's the Wreckers, and Hot Rod, and even Arcee. Springer should know better, he knew Sunny, or I thought he did."

"Wouldn't you agree, then, that it would be best to remove your brother from those who would continue to antagonize him?" Ultra Magnus asked.

"You don't have to take me away from Sides to do it," Sunstreaker scowled. "Let him come." The scowl morphed into pleading, an expression Sunstreaker never wore if he could help it. He looked at Prime, optics glowing softly in supplication. "Please?"

"He is needed here on Earth, Sunstreaker. Prowl, if you would take Sunstreaker and give him a sit rep of the mission."

Prowl nodded and moved away from where he stood next to Prime's desk, beckoning the yellow Lamborghini to follow him.

Sunstreaker glanced at Prowl, the scowl back in place, optics alight in rage. "This is a heap of cold slag. I don't see you punishing any of those retrorats like this, but _I_ have to leave."

Prowl paused, frowning as he looked back. "Sunstreaker, that's enough. The decision has been made. Come with me." Prowl turned fully around, doorwings twitching higher as Sunstreaker remained where he was. "That is an order, Sunstreaker," the authoritative tone brooked no argument and the golden mech reacted almost without thought, taking two steps toward the tactician.

He froze, face blank.

"Sunstreaker, you are dismissed. Don't make it be said again," Prime said.

Prowl flicked his doorwings, the only indication he gave of surprise. Sideswipe caught the brief glance the black and white mech threw his way. Prime wasn't excusing him, Sideswipe realized. Too much of the Autobot Commander's attention was focused on the red twin for his own comfort.

Sunstreaker's engine ground as he moved to follow the second-in-command.

"I suppose I should go catch up on some more of that datawork," Ultra Magnus said after a moment. The new Earth-side commander walked out, but not without first tossing a quiet look down at the warrior.

Sideswipe turned his attention from the receding footsteps of his lover and his brother, to apprehensively turn his attention back on Prime.

"Sideswipe..."

Sideswipe immediately knew that he wouldn't like what Prime was about to say, and lifted his chin defiantly. "What, Prime?"

The Autobot commander's optics narrowed, but he didn't comment on the insubordination. "Sideswipe, I realize that you are sworn by duty to obey the orders given to you by your commanding officers. However, this does not give them a right to wield their authority over you and use you for their own amusement. Any officer, who is taking advantage of you in this manner, is not doing so with my permission. It is not within their purview to ask anything illicit of you. Sideswipe, has an officer been acting out of line in regards to his treatment of you?"

He waited two astroseconds, keeping his expression relaxed, before giving his answer, not wanting to respond too quickly, nor look like he was thinking up a suitable lie. "N-"

"I will be most... angry, if I discover that you are not being truthful with me, Sideswipe."

"No, sir." He met Prime's optics with his own unflinching gaze.

The blue helmet tilted. "There is nothing you would wish to discuss with me? A reason for your desire to go to Cybertron?"

"None that I haven't already told you, sir."

The commander's optics darkened. "Very well then, Sideswipe." He paused, and Sideswipe felt any chance of ever peacefully revealing the truth slipping out of his grasp, and it panged him that he hurt his leader's trust like that. It pained him that he forced Prowl to do so on a regular basis. "If ever it should happen, that an officer abuses the trust that is placed in them, I don't want you to hesitate to bring it to my attention."

The red warrior bowed his head. "Of course not, sir."

The blue optics stared hard at the Lamborghini, before Prime lifted a datapad from the pile on his desk. "We are leaving first thing in the morning, Sideswipe. I would recommend you say your goodbyes to your brother, and your friends whom are leaving. Dismissed."

Sideswipe turned smartly and left, unable to shake the unease in his tanks. He wished he could explain to Optimus Prime that of all the mechs, and all the officers, Prowl would be the least likely to take advantage of any of his soldiers; no matter the relationship he harbored. Prowl knew how to differentiate the way he acted with someone on and off duty, but his workload prevented him from being off duty often enough for it to shine through.

Sideswipe froze. '_First thing in the morning? Why, that isn't even five cycles from now.'_ He hastened his pace, calling his brother in the hopes that he was still with Prowl. They hadn't even had a chance to lovingly insult one another, and Prowl would be leaving soon.

Sunstreaker answered muzzily, which meant that he was already back in his quarters (if not his, then at least someone's), recharging. Sideswipe caught Bluestreak's name within his brothers mumblings and headed for the Datsun's quarters, not caring who else he would disturb.

If he couldn't see Prowl, then nothing would keep him away from Sunstreaker. And he wouldn't let go until first thing in the morning.

* * *

Prowl looked out amidst the moving sea of metal. Friends parting company, lovers kissing in farewell. He averted his gaze from these intimate gestures, painful reminders of the red mech somewhere in that crowd, likely spending every last astrosecond with his hellion brother. His lover, whom the last words he'd spoken to had been perhaps the most cruel he had ever uttered, implying that one twin might possibly outlive the other. Even he had accepted as fact that should one die, the other was sure to follow; how he hated his programming sometimes.

In the mix of all those mechs, he could possibly slip a kiss onto his lover's frame, perhaps even his lips with none the wiser. Instead he was stuck here, directing personnel and the last of the supplies as the sun peeked over the horizon. Optimus had already retreated into the ship, readying the _Xantium _for its flight. He wouldn't be back out until they were ready to leave. Yet if Prowl left his station, he would surely be missed, and sought out, and noticed in the company of his lover.

Jazz carried a crate up the ramp, a limp still in his step from his latest mission. He had only just returned the day prior, and had only the most basic of repairs, Ratchet promised that more would be done en route. He paused next to Prowl, sure smile ready on his face as he leaned over to press a kiss to Prowl's cheek seam.

Prowl looked askance at the mech, wondering at his cheerful mood. "Not in front of everyone, Jazz."

"Why? 'Fraid someone might notice?" He leaned in again, kissing Prowl's lips tenderly. "I haven't gotten t' see much of ya. Seems like my missions have been gettin' more dangerous, recently. Can't imagine why."

The tactician's optics flashed, the only concession he would make to that accusation. "A challenge never harmed anyone, Jazz. Consider it testing your limits." Prowl didn't want to exchange banter with Jazz, he wanted to resume his search for the red warrior that he hadn't properly spoken to for too long.

Jazz stared at Prowl, his grin fading briefly before he looked back into the crowd. "He's over by th' Protectobots, with Sunny and Blue. Don' think 'Aids takin' Ratch's leavin' very well."

Prowl's doorwings jerked upright in surprise and he shot a startled look at the saboteur who simply turned and resumed his march up the ramp. He homed in on the Protectobots, finally seeing the golden and red mechs, arms wrapped around each other in an endless embrace, and Bluestreak with his arms around them both.

Prowl turned away, his chronometer indicated that the departure time had swiftly approached. Everywhere he looked he saw farewells being exchanged. Mirage gripped Hound's arms as he kissed his bondmate, quite likely senseless, and Prowl hoped that Hound would be up to his launch duties. Wheeljack and Ratchet huddled together, grey hands caressing the medic's face as Ratchet's lips moved over the engineer's vocal indicators. Ironhide was already aboard, unable to stand the emotional overload of leaving his longtime comrades. Such displays were being demonstrated all throughout the landing field, and the one mech that Prowl truly wished to see was inaccessible.

"I suppose with Jazz aboard, no one's going to bother with you." Ultra Magnus stepped out of the ship.

"They have come and told me farewell as well." They had and Prowl had answered with as close to his normal tone as possible. Sideswipe hadn't left his brother's side, not even to see Prowl. Prowl's doorwings dipped, although he understood Sideswipe's reasons.

"_All_ of them?"

"There are some who have not, but they are occupied with friends whom they don't know how long it'll be before they see." Prowl looked up at the soon-to-be city commander. "I will be most displeased if you don't take care of my crew, Magnus."

The blue mech rumbled with laughter. "They are my crew now, Prowl." He glanced down at the black and white mech. "But I'll be sure to take care of them." Ultra Magnus hesitated. "Anyone in particular?"

Prowl vented softly, his doorwings dipping. "All of them, Magnus."

Optimus put out a call for those leaving to board the ship, and Ultra Magnus moved down the ramp. Prowl looked for Sideswipe again, seeing that Sunstreaker already made his way toward the shuttle.

Sideswipe had his gaze intently focused on the black and white mech, staunchly ignoring the gunner next to him, despite the arm he had flung over Bluestreak's shoulders. Their gazes locked, a brief moment in time that could have stretched on forever and the world seemed to slow as Sideswipe tilted his head back in a sharp nod, his optics flaring, mouth set in a tight line. They could not even mouth the words, although 'I love you' buzzed within Prowl's vocalizer. He didn't say it often enough, he realized. Just as he knew that it bothered Sideswipe how rarely the tactician said it. Here he wanted to say it, he wanted to put a voice to the affection that he felt for the warrior, and he couldn't. All he could do was to lift his doorwings, and acknowledge Sideswipe's gesture, and rein the emotions in for the sake of his battle computer.

Prowl's vision broke into intermittent static as the incoming crew members forced him to move inside. The last he saw of Sideswipe was the warrior pulling Bluestreak into a tight embrace, that the gray mech eagerly returned. Would that he could imagine himself in those arms; hear the words he wanted to hear. Say the words stuck in his vocalizer.

He retreated down the corridor, pausing to rest his hand on the bulkhead, systems stuttering with the uncertainty of being stuck on a Moon Base with Jazz. Not knowing what Prime would throw at him next. His chevron brushed the wall, and he dug his fingers into the metal, a whine squeezing from between his dental plates.

He had never even had the chance to tell Sideswipe 'good-bye.'

* * *

AN: Not there just yet, but I'm both relieved and dreading reaching the impending last chapter. (No, I'm not going to dare say how many are left; only that there's very few.)

Thanks go to Tiamat1972 for looking it over.


	23. Off to the Side: Ratchet

Off to the Side: Ratchet

Author's Notes: Apologies for the (unintendedly) long hiatus this fic took. I required a bit of a break from it, but I'm rather glad I did. I feel fresh coming back to _Star_ Crossed again after these few months, and I had some ideas occur to me that might not have come to me, had I written these chapters sooner. At this moment, I cannot promise a quick update on the next chapter, but I am tying up the following storyline chapter, and I'm thinking I might go ahead and tackle the next actual chapter (maybe, see how my muse feels about abandoning the storyline at this point).

Truthfully, I wasn't expecting to ever write this. I didn't think Ratchet had anything to add, and it never occurred to me to consider whether he did have something to say. Then his bunny bit me while I was working on the current storyline chapter. It's short but consider this a tease for what's to come.

Of note is that the italics are reserved for the narrative directed at Prime, and the plain text is reserved for an introspective monologue directed at Prowl. Consider it an experiment.

Thanks to Lunenightingale for spontaneous beta-ing! Appreciate it!

* * *

Some of the worse things I've seen in my line of work are patients that deteriorate before my eyes and not being able to pinpoint a cause. That it's a comrade-in-arms, a commander, a _friend. _And they know what's going on with themselves, but refuse to tell _me_ and still expect me to treat their symptoms…

"_Ratchet, to what do I owe this pleasure?"_

When it first happened, I was almost willing to believe you. Believe that it was the stress from preparing for the arrival of Ultra Magnus. Until I had a look at your system logs. This _problem_ had started some time before that, and only just now culminated into a full systems crash. You're damned lucky it happened where someone could see it and do something about it. You're damned lucky that you weren't in anybody's sights or locked in physical combat. Oh, that would have been just prime, you know, giving the Decepticons such a valuable hostage as yourself. Yeah, I can just see Optimus getting all giddy over it now.

_A datapad clattered on the desk. It spun and rattled, coming to a halt before the large commander._

I find it strange that whatever is bothering you didn't start affecting you until recently. What _I_ think is affecting you at least. In some ways I can understand why you must be unable to approach me about it; you and your damned sense of pride, clogging up those fragging logic circuits of yours. How can you ask anyone to handle a problem that you haven't been able to solve on your own? Least of all is that I don't know what hold he has over you that's preventing you from speaking out. There's nothing in your medical record that would hint at any deep dark secrets in your history. And a medical record can tell a lot about a person's deep dark secrets.

_A red finger smacked down on the durable plastic screen of the datapad, making sure that the wielder of the finger had all of the other mech's attention. "I want Prowl reassigned."_

All I have to do is look at the logs I keep in his medical records and I can see that he is equally stressed, and has been for a while now. Though not nearly as long as you have been, but I don't believe the two are coincidences. I've noticed, from a times I've managed to swipe a copy of his logs, that you two hadn't registered an overload within close proximity of each other until just a few metacycles ago. Oddly suspicious for two mechs who have been sneaking off to overload the circuits out of each other.

_A blue hand pulled the datapad out from under the angry red finger to look over the information it presented. "I'm not sure if that's possible, Ratchet. Is there something malfunctioning you can't fix here?"_

I don't know who it is that's sparking up your circuits like that, but I'd say that it's not him, and he is using the one that is against you. It's affecting everything you do. You can barely formulate workable plans without having to have us poke sizeable holes in them for you. It's affecting the state of your systems, and I can always tell when he's near, because you react and you probably don't even realize that you're reacting. But I can tell, and I see it, and I see you flinch away from his touch.

And you're supposed to be lovers?

"_The problem isn't a malfunction I can fix when the cause is still making the problem worse. He needs to get off this base and away from-" the angry voice broke off, hissing through white dental plates. "Why the frag haven't you noticed it before? I know you've seen it! Why the slag are you ignoring this problem, Prime? Are you waiting for him to completely break under the stress until I _can't _fix him anymore? Until he's _beyond_ help and _beyond_ repair? Is that what you're doing to one of _my_ patients?"_

Have you expected me to simply stand by while he wears you down past the point of recovery? _He has hurt you!_ You can't tell me otherwise! Not when you refuse to meet his gaze when you think no one is looking. Why haven't you told anyone? Who else is involved in this? Who else have you tangled into this mess of yours? Who else is _hurting_ and not saying anything to anyone? _How can you expect me to help you when you won't tell me what's wrong!_

_Prime's optics darkened, and the medic could see the pain etched upon his face. "I am waiting for him to talk."_

But you'll never talk will you? If you could then, logically, you would have already. The only solution I can see as a doctor is to remove you from the cause. I'll be damned if I don't do my slagging best to help you out. Watching you relax when he's gone, and seeing how your systems return to normal; you expect me to not do anything to help?

_A fist slammed onto the desk and the boxy frame leaned dangerously over it. "Prime, I'm not going to stand by while you let my patient waste away when I'm telling you the solution right now!" The medic stuttered to a stop, avoiding the commander's questioning gaze. "I can't tell you what's wrong, since I have no proof, except what those reports show. Get him out of here, or you're going to lose him."_

You'll probably hate me for interfering like this, but I don't give a slag. It's taken you most of the metacycle that he's been gone, but you're better. I can _see_ it, even if I can't prove the cause of it. I'm taking action, since you don't seem capable.

_The blue hand slowly dragged the datapad closer, optics whirring as they focused on the words. A long moment of silence ensued until the Autobot commander leaned back. "I'll consider the options, Ratchet."_

It's my duty as your doctor, your _friend,_ to see that you don't damage yourself. To look after you when you're being an idiot. It's just one of the many services I provide, free of charge.

"_I'd appreciate that, Prime."_


	24. Stormed Off

Stormed Off

Stormed Off

Author's Notes: This is the 'Halifax' (city on Cybertron, not on Earth XD) chapter. Or it was the Halifax chapter, until I decided I didn't want to start off with them already in Halifax. Then it kept going and going (and going and going), and I decided it needed to be split. So I'm not going to dare say that it's only going to have one more chapter to it. … Nope, not at all. You haven't heard me say that, right?

Of note, this is considered a bonus chapter, and it's also the first bonus that's gone and split on me…

…. Dammit. DX

Also of note, this is set after Bond Off.

Warnings: You might remember how I said Off the Cuff was the last smutty chapter lest my muse decided otherwise? Well… he decided otherwise. (nor shall I say _this_ is the last one, cause it's not) Smutty, with a little story.

* * *

Prowl knew that Sunstreaker hated him at the moment. He knew that Sunstreaker hated his brother at the moment. He hated the dinghy building they'd found shelter in, the rain that made them seek it out and ate away at his paint. He hated the mission that put them in this position. He hated that it had been planned for just such an occurrence.

And then there was Sideswipe's current… game.

"Sunny!"

Metal banged as golden fist collided with red shoulder.

"_Sunny_!"

Smack!

"Sunny!"

Thwack!

"Sun_neeee_!"

Ka-tang!

"Su-"

"You call me that _one_ more time, and I'm going to pound your aft so flat that not even Ratchet could get you back in shape,"

Prowl had decided that it would be better for him to not try and keep count of the number of times Sideswipe had taunted his brother like that. It had been going on for a while now, and Sunstreaker was hardly known for his tolerance, even where his hellion brother was concerned. Hence, the tactician chose to ignore the blatant threat Sunstreaker so casually tossed out.

Prowl looked about the safehouse, his sensors picked up no sign of habitation on this or the upper floor. He decided that a change of topic would be most welcome as it seemed Sideswipe was debating whether or not to tempt fate. "There isn't much to be done at the moment besides catching some recharge and hoping the storm will pass."

Sideswipe made a disgruntled noise, unhappy with having his game interrupted. He jostled Prowl's shoulder as he passed. "It's too early to recharge. I vote we do something."

Sunstreaker halted in the middle of spraying his finish with a neutralizing agent. "I say not while I'm slagging online."

Sideswipe grinned, coming back to pull Prowl into the circle of his arms. "Aww, but Sunny, we need you to keep watch while _we_ keep ourselves occupied."

Prowl shuddered as the warrior's lips brushed against the cables of his neck. Then he promptly whacked the twin upside the head with both doorwings.

Sideswipe stumbled back with an exclamation, rubbing at his helmet. "Ow! What was that for?" He whimpered as he scuffed at his audio horns, his face almost pitiable in the shadows.

Prowl brushed past him, carelessly striking him again with a doorwing. "There is no need to tease your brother so cruelly." Prowl glanced into a room, noticing the small acidic puddle on the floor. That would not do. "Especially when he is being so tolerant about coming with us when he didn't have to." Prowl shot Sideswipe a speaking look as he inspected the next room.

Sideswipe rolled his head, clucking his vocalizer for a moment before he turned and gave a sweeping gesture of appreciation to Sunstreaker. "Thank you so much, bro. I owe you the next few cycles free from torment."

Sunstreaker glared at his brother, before turning to inspect a mural on the wall again. "It wouldn't have been so bad if Mr. Perfect hadn't insisted on passing by every other habitable building."

Prowl looked away from the third room he was inspecting, pleased with the state of the room.. "I wanted someplace defensible." He flicked his doorwings. "Is that an issue?"

Prowl caught the frown Sideswipe threw at his brother. "No, Prowl. That's not a problem at all."

"That's because you don't try to look your best Sideswipe. You don't even care to do that for him!" Sunstreaker leaned towards Sideswipe and jabbed his brother in the chestplate. "What does that make you?"

Prowl frowned at the display, but decided that they were just… being themselves. Again. He sighed as he rested a hand on the open doorway to the third room inside the hallway. "This room will do." He entered the room, pulling out a small lampstick and activating it. He set it on the floor in the center of the room and looked up when he heard the other two enter.

"At least this one isn't leaking like the other two," Sunstreaker said appreciatively as he sat down in a corner, leaning his head against the wall.

Sideswipe stepped over to Prowl, mischievous smile in place. "Aw, bro, don't you want to join us. We're about to have lot's," and a finger squeaked down Prowl's doorwing suggestively, "of fun."

Prowl snapped his doorwing at the finger, settling himself on the floor. He stretched joints that had remained in altmode far too long, his mag plates still humming with the feeling of gliding over the road.

Sideswipe seemed to realize this, and ran his fingers over the plates in Prowl's shoulders. He leaned in, nuzzling the white helm as he stroked the plates again. "You're still humming, sparkles."

"Don't call me 'sparkles'," Prowl retorted automatically. He had to look away from his lover than, the twin's expression too intense, too needful for him to look at and still maintain control. He chose to ignore the red twin's hands on him; instead he pulled a box out of subspace, shivering as Sideswipe continued his caresses. "Sideswipe was actually talking about something that's a little more cooperative than what you're assuming, Sunstreaker." He opened the box, removing the tiered board and setting it near the lampstick. "Would you like to play?" He glanced at the golden mech expectantly.

Sunstreaker stared blankly back and even Sideswipe made a surprised sound. "I didn't realize Firestorm could involve more than two players."

Prowl lazily shrugged a doorwing, separating the pieces out into three units. "The units are smaller, but it's plausible. The rules change a little as well, instead of one defending the Core, and the other attempting to overtake it; it becomes three attempting to claim the Core, as well as removing the threat of the other two." Prowl tilted his head toward Sunstreaker, browridge lifted hopefully. "Were you interested?"

Sunstreaker frowned, but moved closer, dragging along a tarp he'd pulled out of subspace to keep the dirt of the floor off his finish. "Fine." He glared at Sideswipe. "Don't see the point in it when you're going to slag us both."

Sideswipe sat across from Prowl, staring at the tactician with his burning optics. "It's not always about victory, bro. Sometimes it's all about the chase."

Prowl evenly stared back at the warrior, arching a brow ridge before setting his unit up. The predatory gleam within the mech's optics sent shivers down Prowl's frame. He could hear the minute clatter of metal as Sideswipe tensed with anticipation. After pinging for first move, the game started.

* * *

Having thoroughly routed Sideswipe's unit, and even after dumbing his strategy down for Sunstreaker, Prowl still won the first round.

Sunstreaker had immediately stood with a snarl, and stormed off. Sideswipe had teased the golden mech mercilessly until Sunstreaker finally snapped a retort back. "I go in and kick aft. Strategy is _his_ area. Leave me out of it. And no sparkly optics at each other, I hear your engines going and I'm dismantling someone."

Prowl had quietly laughed to himself throughout the entire exchange, setting up the board for a more traditional game of Firestorm. Waiting for Sideswipe to stop laughing himself silly, Prowl stretched out on the ground, propped up on an elbow, his doorwing brushing the ground. He glanced at the golden warrior who glared back as he polished his armor. The tactician smirked, ducking his head to hide it under his chevron and idly straightening the board just that much more.

Sideswipe rolled to a proper sitting position and snuck in the first move.

Several rounds later, buzzing from the high grade Sideswipe had brought along, Prowl found himself more focused on the red mech's movements as the black hand reached over the board and moved the pieces. He wanted to caress the gleam the lampstick cast on the red chestplate. His engine purred softly at the prospect, but he didn't dare reach out and satisfy the itch while Sunstreaker watched.

Sideswipe's gaze lifted from the board to smile at Prowl. Then his optics slid to the side, glancing at the golden twin. "Hey Sunny, what's that you got there?"

Prowl looked up, surprised to find Sunstreaker had moved to a different corner. Sideswipe stood and snatched at sheaf of plastic the golden twin held.

Sunstreaker shot to his feet, snarling scathing words at his brother. He lunged for the sheaf, striking at his brother's shoulder to off balance Sideswipe.

Sideswipe laughed and scooted away from the golden mech. He almost succeeded except for the foot that snatched out to hook around his leg, yanking him off his feet.

Prowl watched, idly debating whether he should interfere, or let them have their brotherly scuffle. The sheaf fluttered to the floor, just close enough that Prowl only had to reach out and catch the corner of the textured plastic to drag it closer. He could see graphite lines decorating the page, and he spun it to face him so that the image resolved into a familiar figure.

He looked up in surprise at the golden mech. Sunstreaker glared at him before cursing Sideswipe roundly and loudly, using phrases Prowl was certain weren't anatomically possible. Sideswipe, grinning broad enough to break his face, literally, shook off Sunstreaker's bulk and scooted closer to Prowl. He gingerly took the sheaf from the tactician's white hands, his optics locked on the image.

"I've always wanted Sunny to do something like this for me," he breathed, optics bright as he looked toward the tactician. "He's always refused to put your image down in any form for me. Says he doesn't want to get me in trouble."

"You shouldn't have gotten that, Sides! What are you going to do if anyone asks you why you've got that?" Sunstreaker's fingers clawed into the concrete floor.

"For target practice," Sideswipe chirped back all too glibly. His engine revved softly as his gaze turned from the drawing to the referenced source. "Primus, it's like having a piece of you with me, Prowl."

"Oh, slag! Here we go." Sunstreaker slapped his hand over his optics.

"It is a very well done rendition-" Sunstreaker huffed something that sounded like an 'of course', "but…" Prowl had both mechs' attention as he pulled Sideswipe's hand down to look at the drawing again before he canted an inquiring look toward Sunstreaker. "Why?"

Sunstreaker unaccountably looked down with embarrassment. "We never see you that relaxed. It-I just wanted to capture it for a moment." He scowled at his brother. "I was going to get rid of it before anyone saw it."

Sideswipe subspaced the picture. "Yeah, well that's not going to happen, bro."

Prowl stared at Sunstreaker, reviewing in his processor the image of him relaxing, with the lampstick casting shadows across his frame, indeed looking relaxed and far too… attractive (though he tried to look at it as objectively as he could) to be a true portrayal. Something on his face must have given his thoughts away for Sunstreaker suddenly huffed and looked away from the both of them.

"Look, it's really hard to see you as unattractive when the afthead over there is radiating such adoration for you." He frowned, and glared at both of them. "Don't you have a game you should be playing."

"Oh, I think we'll try playing another game." Sideswipe's bright optics turned back to Prowl, and he positively leered at the Enforcer, his engine revving. "Like seeing how loud I can get Prowl to scream."

Sunstreaker shot to his feet. "That's it! I'm going to look around this dump."

Prowl watched the golden twin tromp out of the room in surprise before he flashed an irritated scowl at the red twin.

"What? No admonition to be careful, or not to stray too far?"

Prowl tilted his head. "No, he doesn't need those. I would like to finish this game though."

Sideswipe obediently sat down, grinning still. "Even though you're losing horribly?"

"It's not horribly. I still have my Guardian and a handful of soldiers and guns."

Sideswipe chuckled. "Not for long you won't."

Prowl had been reduced to his Artillery Cannons when he decided that he'd been distracted by that gleaming chestplate long enough. He moved himself closer to the red twin as he shifted his Seekers about, and brushed his lips over a jointed audio horn. Sideswipe jerked in surprised, whipping his head about to stare at Prowl, their nasal ridges clinking together. Prowl moved closer, pressing light kisses to Sideswipe's parted lips. Sideswipe stared, and then his optics dimmed as he leaned into the kisses.

Prowl pounced.

He rolled Sideswipe to his back, kissing the warrior quite thoroughly as he sought to wring protesting sounds from the red mech. He sought a sensitive seam he knew to be located in the joining at Sideswipe's waist, running his fingers lightly over it. Sideswipe whimpered, twisting about under Prowl even as he turned his own hands to getting revenge on the black and white mech.

"You know," he murmured after managing to get Prowl to choke off a rather loud cry, "I'd almost think that you were being a sore loser." His hands slipped under Prowl's canopy, rubbing at the cushioning that lined the Enforcer's interior. A grin sprouted on his face, widening as Prowl twitched in his hands. "If I didn't know you better, that is."

"I'm not." Prowl arched his back to the touch, scraping his hand down Sideswipe's arm creating an erotic squeal of metal on metal. "I'd rather… uhn… let you distract me." He quieted, wanting to linger in running his lips down the gleaming chestplate that had held his attention for so long. Focus on the feeling of Sideswipe's dental plates on his chevron. They drew out excited moans and startled gasps as they pressed against each other hungrily, hands everywhere they needed to be, everywhere they shouldn't be.

Prowl threw his head back with a strangled cry, Sideswipe running his fingers under the transformation seam at Prowl's chest. Suddenly Sideswipe froze, and he jerked Prowl to the ground, creating a startling bang.

Prowl snapped his optics on, never having realized they'd shut down, and he panted, staring at Sideswipe. The red twin didn't relax his hold, turned on his side as he stared intently at the door. His black fingers covered Prowl's mouth in a hushing gesture.

Prowl furrowed his brow as he noticed that Sideswipe's optics flickered strangely. He reached out a white hand to touch the mech's temple. Sideswipe glanced at him, and mouthed a single word: Sunny. Then he jabbed a finger toward his audio horn, his gaze turning back to the door.

Prowl subsided, upping the gain on his audio receptors as he also scanned the hallway just beyond the door. Nothing blipped on his sensors, not even a hotspot or an energy surge. Sunstreaker appeared, looking around the hallway with all the attentiveness of a sentry. He glanced into the room and shrugged; his frown deepening as he very briefly glanced at the two mechs lying together on the floor.

When Sunstreaker disappeared around the corner again, Sideswipe finally relaxed.

"Did you hear something?" Prowl asked, propping himself on his elbow. He still scanned the surrounding area, but detected nothing more than a few glitchmice.

"Mighta been nothing, just some debris falling, or the building settling." He stroked his fingers down Prowl's face, his focus changing from whatever had disturbed him to the black and white mech in front of him.

Prowl sighed in pleasure as he allowed Sideswipe to turn his own attention away from the disturbance; Sunstreaker wouldn't let anything happen to them. He had the utmost confidence in his warriors.

Fingers danced over each other's sides, coaxing a soft rev from an engine, or a moan from a vocalizer. Occasionally Sideswipe would shush Prowl for being too loud, and they would lie there absolutely still as Prowl regained his grip on his vocalizer. Then they would lose themselves in each other, in mouths that played over sharp corners, the pleasant rumbles of an engine that turned at a touch, or caress.

Prowl shoved Sideswipe to his back again, climbing over the warrior and straddling one of the mech's thighs. He nipped at the edges of Sideswipe's chestplate, curling his shoulder into the face that nuzzled against his neck cables. Stifled the needful moan that rumbled from the mech's throat. Prowl sought out the by now familiar plate that covered Sideswipe's data port. It opened eagerly allowing Prowl to plug himself into the red mech.

Sideswipe's hands shook with excitement as they traced over Prowl's doorwings. He hissed as Prowl completed the connection with his cord, their systems looping into sync with each other. Words exchanged without even passing through their lips and Sideswipe rolled Prowl to his back. He leaned over the tactician, nipping at Prowl's neck cables and digging his fingers into his door hinges.

Prowl permitted Sideswipe the access to thread through his systems, trusting the mech to leave him capable of fighting should the need arise.

"_And just who do you think would be out in this, sparkles?"_

The feeling of the words transmitting through his internal diagnostics had Prowl both laughing and moaning. He returned the favor; casually stroking Sideswipe's targeting systems to make the mech scramble for control of his weaponry. "_That's the point of war, isn't it Sides?_"

Sideswipe didn't answer; too busy increasing the gain on Prowl's chevron and pressing his lips to the red metal to make the tactician squeal. Prowl indignantly countered the command with one of his own, activating Sideswipe's ankle mag plates and then reversing one's polarity so that they latched onto each other. Sideswipe muffled a surprised yelp, working through Prowl's messy programming effort to release his feet.

They continued along that vein, rubbing against each other physically, over their hardline attachment. The idea crossed both of their minds that they could attempt a little spark play. Except, Sideswipe murmured, Sunstreaker was too close for that. And, Prowl responded, it would leave them too defenseless. Prowl occasionally detected Sideswipe's distraction, and a third signal from the red twin, and he could only assume that the red mech communicated with his brother, though the 'why' of his actions escaped Prowl.

Then Sideswipe, as if noticing his lover's irritation, would strum his hands up and down Prowl's doorhinges.

Making Prowl forget why he was annoyed.

* * *

They lay, panting, cords still tangled, legs entwined. The air felt almost chill on their armor, their systems heated from an intense overload and prolonged stimulation. Prowl started as Sunstreaker tromped into the room and sat down in his corner, once again pulling out the tarp that kept the dirt off his frame.

"You two should recharge. I'll bring Sides online when my watch is up."

Prowl ran the situation through his processor. "We… muted our vocalizers, and our engines were toned down… How did you know we were done?"

Sideswipe's amusement transmitted over their link and his laughter rolled through Prowl's audio receptors. "He felt when I was done, and I guess he assumed for you."

Prowl assimilated that. "You're saying that he _felt _everything?"

Sideswipe snickered, but Sunstreaker answered. "Not really felt it, but I just knew. Trust me, it disgusts me, too."

Prowl's systems heated in embarrassment. "I didn't realize…"

The golden twin glared at Prowl. "I knew what was going to happen when I agreed to this fragging idea. Don't worry about it, Prowl."

Prowl tilted his head at Sunstreaker. "Who said you were taking first watch?"

Sideswipe snuggled closer to the black and white mech. "He is. I'm taking second, and you're taking third."

Too tired to argue, Prowl leveled a speaking look at both twins. "We're going to discuss this after the recharge cycle. I'm supposed to be the commander of this mission, not you two."

Sunstreaker smirked. "Well, if you agree to it, then it becomes your orders. Besides isn't it only logical considering you're both about to drop offline talking to me?"

Prowl shut down his optics. "True. Fine. Sunstreaker you have first watch."

He knew Sideswipe smiled, he could feel it over their data link.

"Hey, think you guys would mind getting your cables straight? It's kinda disturbing me." Silence as neither of the lovers moved. "Of course I could always do it for you…"

* * *

Prowl recharged, curled up against Sideswipe's comforting warmth. He came briefly online when Sunstreaker changed watch with Sideswipe. He knew Sideswipe lingered briefly as he and his brother murmured softly at one another, a black hand idly stroking Prowl's shoulder. Then he slipped back into recharge just as Sideswipe stood to take over. Sunstreaker lay a few yards away, and the chill quickly replaced Sideswipe's warmth.

Lips pressed against his helmet, his cheek, his jaw, covering his mouth with a muted passion that brought him online and grabbing at the mech. He panted, staring into Sideswipe's grinning optics.

"Getting you all worked up?"

Prowl grumbled, shoving Sideswipe away, so he could sit up. Then he yanked the Toughline close, rubbing their nasal ridges together. "Not when I need to go on watch." Still he paused to indulge in a heated kiss with the red twin, before he stood. "Anything to report?"

Sideswipe rolled his head. "I'd rather sit through one of your lectures." Prowl wondered if he'd find any surprises awaiting him as he walked throughout the safehouse. He flicked his doorwings and tilted his head, waiting for more detail. "Well, Sunny heard some noises, and so did I, but I never found anything when I investigated." Sideswipe narrowed his optics as Prowl opened his mouth to ask another question. "Yes, I went and actually checked them." He paused and a frown pinched his lips down. "My sensors have been glitching some though. Sunny said he was getting blips. But we both checked, and there was nothing here!"

Prowl stared at the warrior silently for a moment. Then he nodded. "I'll keep it in mind. Go lie down, recharge as long as you need. I'll stay close by." He waited until Sideswipe settled next to his brother.

Sunstreaker's dim optics darkened and Prowl flinched with embarrassment as he realized that the golden twin had witnessed their exchange. He silently thanked the golden twin, appreciative of his assistance with their little escapade. If their destination had been much farther Prowl would have required more of an escort, and possibly not allowed to handle the field work personally. Much closer and they would have still been well within sensor range of the base, and not been able to justify the extended mission. It would have been far too risky to have indulged their passion.

Prowl walked through the rooms, sensors on high alert, his rifle slung over his shoulder, ready to be aimed with a single smooth motion. He finally took the time to scan the actual contents of the rooms, shuffling through the assorted odds and end scattered on the acid eaten desk. The wet objects stung his hands, and he could see the acid already eating at the paint of his fingers. He put the scuffed and broken datapad back on his desk, unable to even access the information stored within; lost to time and corrosion.

His patrol took him to the staircase without event, and he lowered his doorwings as he crept up the crumbling stairs. He idly postulated about who might have lived here. A slightly larger than normal bot at the least, as the steps were a little larger than a mech of his sized could comfortably handle. The width of the stairs allowed for a lot of room as well, Prowl could stretch his doorwings to either side and still not touch the wall or the rail. '_A flier,_' his battle computer whispered having run the algorithms through his processor. '_Triple-changer,_' it amended when he noted the sturdy berth with gaps to allow for protrusions. He peered into one of the other rooms and noticed with some surprise the board set up, looking like it had been in the middle of a play. Critical optics gauged the positions of the pieces and calculated the next best move. He approached the table, intent on the board. The amount of dust on the board unsettled him, it looked like-

He stumbled over something that _twanged_ as his foot pulled on it.

Cold and wet drenched his back and his doorwings. He stiffened as it dripped into his hinges, and his optics narrowed. "Sideswipe!" he growled. _How_ that mech even managed to store so much paint without anyone noticing Prowl didn't even attempt to try and figure out.

He glanced at his doorwings, twisting his neck at an awkward angle. Red coated his panels, running down in small streaks down the creases in his panels and into his hinges. Prowl shuddered, and wiped at the paint, relieved to see how easily it came off. It meant Sideswipe had mixed this batch up especially for this. Prowl flicked his doorwings trying to remove the worse of it before he moved toward the table. Paint spattered across the board, some of the pieces knocked over. The once too thin layer of dust was now completely unsettled, and Prowl could no longer tell if it was truly as disturbed as he thought it might have been.

Something scraped along metal in the next room and Prowl spun about, no longer concerned with the paint adorning his doorwings. He slipped back out, running constant passive scans for an unusual signal or a hot spot, anything that would give away another's presence. He pressed against the wall, readying his rifle, turning the gain on his audio receptors to maximum. He burst around the corner into the recharge quarters, rifle swinging in an arc, as he prepared to meet his adversary.

Nothing.

He stared quietly for a long few breems, waiting for any sign of an intruder. Nothing so much as stirred a breeze, the reinforced room untouched even by the rain. Prowl scanned the room one more time, using more active scanners, and, finding nothing, backed out. He swung around the corner and glimpsed a reflective surface in the room opposite of him.

He froze.

Behind him, by the berth, hovered a pair of yellow optics, surrounded by a black miasma. He whirled and saw nothing. Angling himself to look at the reflective surface without completely turning his back on the room, the optics blinked at him. He stared at it, variables running through his battle computer within a tenth of an astrosecond, and he snapped his rifle back, shooting the apparition.

The optics disappeared suddenly, and the pellets spattered across the wall by the berth. Prowl moved, trying to get a better angle to see more of the room through the mirror. He wanted to see if that thing was still there.

Two lithe forms slipped up the stairs, sweeping blue optics about as soon as they hit the top landing. Sideswipe immediately came to stand by Prowl, his optics roving the hallway as his brother moved further down, peering into each room.

"What the frag was the firing about?" Sideswipe grumbled, peering into the room as Prowl looked about the corner.

"I thought I saw something."

Sunstreaker huffed as he came back from his sweep. "What? Prime's second-in-command, his premiere tactician, hallucinating? That's a first." He blinked in surprise at Prowl's back. "What the-"

Prowl cast a mild frown toward the golden Toughline, cutting his question off. There was no need to ask when the answer should be so obvious. "I do not hallucinate." He pulled himself away from the wall. "It could be a cloaking shield. Spread out and run a scan on all known waves."

They spent the next two cycles scanning each room, and then moving down stairs and doing the same there.

Sunstreaker sat down on his tarp when they were done, lying down and throwing an arm over his optics. "That was the biggest waste of my time, Prowl. Sure your optics aren't glitching?" Yet he couldn't seem to stop glancing at Prowl's doorwings, only to hide his optics afterwards. Tremors shook his frame. Laughter.

Prowl flicked his doorwings in annoyance, glancing toward Sideswipe who still waited in the hall, dim optics watching the hallway. "My optics are functioning fine, Sunstreaker. Go back to recharge, I'll let you know if I see anything else."

He stepped out to the hall, looking inquisitively at his lover still standing there. "You left a paint trap for me."

Sideswipe grinned. "Yeah." He reached out to touch a colored doorwing. "So everyone knows you're mine."

Prowl frowned. "There's no doubt in my processor, or your brother's. Though I do disagree with the way you choose to word that." A tight smile touched his lips to counter the stern frown that followed. "It should be that you belong to me."

Sideswipe laughed softly and suddenly leaned forward, draping his arms over Prowl's shoulders to lean against his chestplate and nuzzle into the tactician's neck cables. "I'm all yours, sparkles. Just ask, and I'll do whatever you want."

"Go recharge, Sideswipe." Prowl curled his fingers over the back of the Toughline's neck, venting sharply when the mech mouthed the wires and support struts.

"Not quite what I had in mind," the red mech moaned. Confident hands worked their way over Prowl's torso plating and the Toughline's fine-tuned engine purred in contentetment as Prowl caressed the red finish lovingly. "I'd rather you come back with me, or we can use one of the other rooms."

"I'm not leaving your brother in recharge alone. We're not interfacing in that room while he's also in there."

The purr changed to a complaining grumble that made Prowl laugh. Sideswipe's hands slid along Prowl's frame and caressed the edges of the dip where Prowl's doors met his shoulders, smearing the red paint even further. Prowl moaned softly, rolling his head back as Sideswipe teased his fingers along that edge. The mouth by his neck took advantage of the movement. Sideswipe pressed into Prowl, nipping and biting Prowl's neck, a growl rumbling from his vocalizer, trembling across his lips.

Prowl's vision dimmed as he leaned into the kisses and caresses. "Aren't you satisfied by our earlier activity?" Even still his hands caressed their way up the mech's shoulder struts,

"I'm never 'satisfied', Prowl. I don't get nearly as much of you as I'd like." Sideswipe lifted his head to catch Prowl's lips, mouth moving hungrily over the tactician's.

Prowl kissed him back, cupping his cheek seams in his white hands. "I don't think the storm's going to be letting up in time for us to leave tomorrow," he finally said, "Quite likely we'll have to stay here for another solar cycle."

"Oh, really?" Sideswipe purred, all-too pleased about that turn of events. "I mean. Oh, too bad." The blue optics danced with amusement.

Prowl smiled, but stepped away. "I need to focus on the watch, Sideswipe."

Sideswipe's unwillingness to release Prowl showed in the fingers that still caressed the black bumper. "We can both keep watch. Together."

"No, Sideswipe."

Sideswipe's optics dimmed, and he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to Prowl's lips. "Later?"

Prowl tilted a smile at the mech, his doorwings lifting as he softened the light of his optics. "There's always a later, Sides." Prowl trailed his fingers down the twin's cheek seam, unable to resist the mech's close proximity.

Sideswipe's return smile didn't match the dim and disappointed optics. "Seems to always _be_ later."

Prowl had no answer for that, as he'd given it so many times before. He watched Sideswipe settle near his brother and then returned to his patrol, pausing long enough to clean the paint off his doorwings and what he could reach of his canopy.

He watched the reflective surfaces, looking again for those telltale optics.

He didn't see anything the rest of his watch.

* * *

They stood at the doorway, looking out at the hissing precipitation that corroded everything it touched. Sideswipe poked his head a little further out, ducking back in quickly. "Storm doesn't look like it's going to end any time soon."

Sunstreaker huffed and glared at the pair from where he leaned against the wall, well away from any stray droplets. "Hey, yeah, thanks for sharing that _Wheeljack_, I'm sure none of us could have figured _that_ out on our own."

Sideswipe sent a narrowed eyed frown at his brother, stepping away from the door.

"I mean, the clouds are only covering the city, and don't look to be moving very fast at all. Simple mathematics, I'm sure even Prowl couldn't have figured that out."

Prowl glanced at Sunstreaker, deciding to ignore the jibe in favor of considering the building they were in. "We should move to another building."

"Oh, frag no! I am spending not one breem out there while you're looking for 'someplace defensive!' I am not leaving this place for sensor glitches and optic ghosts." Sunstreaker loomed over Prowl, mouth set in a snarl on his thunderous face.

Prowl stared at the warrior, unaffected by the mech's attempt to intimidate him. His doorwings flared, and his shoulders squared, the magnets in the plates humming as he faced off with Sunstreaker. "I will not risk our safety for your sense of beauty, Sunstreaker. Despite the reasons for our coming out here, I remain your commanding officer, and if I say that you will be going out in that rain to look for a more appropriate shelter than that is _exactly _what you will be doing."

Sunstreaker glared at Prowl, taking a step closer. "There's nothing there! You know as well as I do that the wires in the building could very likely be causing our sensors to malfunction."

Sideswipe touched Prowl's canopy, making the tactician jerk toward him, before turning back to Sunstreaker.

"Prowl, really, we'll just have to keep a watch out for anything unusual. I'd rather not go back out in that rain myself."

Prowl looked between the two mechs, battle computer shouting 'bad idea! Bad idea!', but he relented with a nod. He knew that if they promised to keep their sensors on maximum, they would do as they said. Prowl stepped back, knocking into Sideswipe's chestplate, and the red twin slipped his arms around the tactician's waist.

Sunstreaker's engine grumbled and he glanced at Sideswipe, his optics flickering. An odd expression crossed his face, bewilderment and surprise and confusion combined into one. His optics slid back down to Prowl and his cheek twitched. He leaned forward, and prodded Prowl's bumper with an elegant finger. "I'm not interfacing with you to get my way."

Prowl's lips twitched and he suddenly turned in Sideswipe's arm, doorwing moving awkwardly out of the way. He pressed a kiss to the mech's cheek, sliding a white hand over the red chestplate. "Sometimes sacrifices have to be made, Sunstreaker."

The golden warrior's engine choked, and his vocalizer glitched and garbled in disgust as he beat a hasty retreat.

Sideswipe chuckled, nuzzling his face into Prowl's. "Now who's being mean to him?" He didn't give Prowl a chance to answer as he promptly and soundly kissed him senseless.

Prowl didn't take long to regain himself and returned the fervent kisses with his own.

"There's a berth upstairs, and we have unfinished business to take care of. I'll meet you up there?"

"And leave Sunstreaker by himself?" Prowl whispered, though his voice was heavy with desire.

Sideswipe's bright optics bore into Prowl, excitement churning just behind their glass. "Trust me, Sunny will want to be by himself for this." With that Sideswipe turned and headed for the stairs.

Prowl waited, though there was no way to make it any less obvious what exactly their intentions were, before he followed Sideswipe, aware of Sunstreaker's glare as he passed the mech. He climbed the stairs, glancing at the reflective surface across the hall as he turned into the room.

Hands grabbed him, swinging him into the wall. Prowl yelped in surprise, taken completely off guard by Sideswipe's sudden attack. The warrior easily shrugged off the blows the tactician landed, latching onto Prowl's mouth with an ever insatiable vigor. Prowl shoved him towards the berth shivering from Sideswipe's sensor sweeps.

"Did I scare you?" Sideswipe rumbled, letting Prowl press him into the oversized berth.

White hands lay flat against the red chestplate as Prowl prompted Sideswipe to slide over. "You startled me."

Sideswipe obliged, chuckling as he wrapped his lanky frame about Prowl when the tactician lay on his side next to him. He pulled the black and white frame closer, kissing Prowl's jaw before he covered the grey mouth. Eager hands played over Prowl's doorwings only to slide over the access panel on Prowl's torso.

"Hnnn…You're too eager," Prowl laughed, pulling the errant hand up to his lips to kiss and nip the black fingers.

Sideswipe shuddered, his hands trembling against Prowl's lips as he whimpered and twitched. "If I'm- Primus, do that again… only going to get you once every few metacycles than… mmmm… I'm going to 'face with you as many-" Sideswipe halted, writhing as Prowl ran his lips along the seams of the black palms. "Ah… as many times as I can." He pulled his hand out of Prowl's grasp, drawing the tactician closer. "You're leaving when we get back, remember?"

Prowl leaned his head against the Toughline's shoulder, letting his silence express his regret at that fact. He knew it to be the reason that Sideswipe had suggested this 'mission', there was no need for words. They held each other in that silence for a long couple of breems, simply reveling in the other's company, unmoving.

Then Sideswipe shifted, his leg sliding over Prowl's waist. He kissed Prowl passionately, his engine revving to fill the silence with wordless emotion.

Prowl returned the kiss, his engine purring with the feel of black hands stroking transformation seams and finding their way to exposed wires.

They lost themselves in that passion, gasping and moaning as they rubbed each other in all the right ways.

Suddenly Prowl's comm. chirped to life and he jerked away from Sideswipe, panting to regain control of his systems. His comm. chirped again and he registered Prime's signature on the other side. He took another few astroseconds to modulate his voice before he answered the comm.

"Prowl here."

"_Status report?_"

Prowl needed another few astroseconds, jogging a processor fogged with more passionate needs than answering his commander. "Mission's on hold. We're trapped by rain."

"_I do register a storm system in your area." _A pause. "_Is everything… all right?_"

Prowl winced as he realized he hadn't been hiding his occupied state as well as he would have liked. "We are taking the opportunity to practice, sir. Sideswipe has been showing me some new moves."

Sideswipe buried his face in Prowl's shoulder, his frame shaking with restrained mirth.

"_Ah… very well then, carry on._"

"Thank you, Prime, I will. Prowl out."

Sideswipe broke into raucous peals of laughter, rolling onto his back as his engine chugged with his amusement.

Prowl shot the Toughline a smirk after he shut off his side of the line.

"I'm teaching you some new moves, am I?" the red mech finally chuckled.

Prowl harrumphed and climbed on top of the red mech, rubbing himself against the other's legs and chest. "I could have told Prime what we were really doing."

"You didn't, but hey! He gave us permission to continue." Sideswipe grinned up at Prowl, running his hands up Prowl's shoulders struts.

"I thought you might find that amusing," Prowl murmured as he leaned down to press his lips against Sideswipe's.

"Oh, I do!" Sideswipe's words came out muffled by Prowl's mouth, and accompanied by a groan. "I think you found it 'amusing' too." Sideswipe's voice rasped with husky desire.

Prowl nuzzled the warrior's cheek, stroking the access panel to Sideswipe's interface. "I might have."

Sideswipe laughed against Prowl's jaw. "Heh, now who's being too," he paused, body wincing toward Prowl's hands as the tactician expertly inserted his plug into the open panel. "-too eager… oh Primus, yes." Blue optics darkened as Sideswipe seemed to melt under Prowl's knowledgeable hands.

Prowl couldn't help the smile that spread the corners of his lips. He found far too much enjoyment out of being able to wring the simplest of sounds from the mech's vocalizer. He fondled Sideswipe's cord for a moment, stroking the plug at the end before he put the plug into his own waiting interface.

He barely waited for the programs to finish initializing before he plunged a datastream through the interface, bouncing through Sideswipe like an erratic glitchmouse on high grade. He buried his face in the warrior's neck, panting as surges raged throughout his frame from the incorporeal touch of his lover.

They clawed at each other, and suddenly Prowl nudged at the coding that opened the red chestplate.

An alarmed query answered the nudge, and Prowl transmitted a soothing reply. He wanted Sideswipe's light-his being- to play against his.

They hadn't tried it since their abortive attempt to bond.

Prowl's chestplate moved up as he levered himself over the opening of Sideswipe's chest.

He panted, the feel of Sideswipe's fingers digging into his hip plates lost within the surge of his spark chamber opening, aware of Sideswipe releasing his own spark to the air.

The two pulsing beacons hovered uncertainly, just at the edge of their chestplates. Their light illuminated the room, and everything else seemed dark in comparison. Shadows reached across the floors, stretching for the two mechs engaged in their passion.

The two sparks twisted wildly in place, sending paroxysms through the pair. They wanted to push closer, but feared it; memory of the last time sharp in their memory drives. Vocalizers glitched and screeched, out of control as they lost themselves in the sensation of light-energy- pulsing from one spark to the other.

Prowl barely had the cognizance to recognize the sound of whispered words in strange voices floating through the air. He tried to focus, but the shadows touched everything and in the light of the sparks he wasn't sure of truly seeing what seemed to be sparkshades intently watching them.

Alarm and concern were lost in the moment of overload, their sparks slamming back into place and chestplates sealing, both of them crying out in release. Prowl collapsed against Sideswipe, both mechs going offline, shivering with energy surges. But Prowl's battle computer managed one final wail of warning before it shut down.

'Bad idea!'

* * *

Prowl came online, the berth cold beside him. His fingers twitched and he pulled a goody pack out of subspace, popping a stick straight from the pack and into his mouth.

He wondered where Sideswipe had disappeared to.

He waited and then took another of the horrible things, letting the stick dissolve in his mouth so he could swallow it more naturally. He pushed himself to his feet, his frame shaky with exertion. It might not have been such a good idea to indulge so near to Sunstreaker.

Prowl made his way out the door, and to the hall, looking for his lover as his systems powered on from the energon sticks.

He listened, leaning against the threshold, hearing the soft whisper of voices. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker must be talking. Arguing, he amended at the soft bang of metal. Prowl made his way downstairs, shaking the vestiges of power drain from his systems and straightening. He paused as the bottom floor came into view, slowing his steps as he booted up his battle computer and began calculating what was wrong with the scene before him.

Something had smashed into the wall right next to the room they'd been occupying, long cracks spidered their way across the wall created by a large something. A Toughline-sized somethnig.

Had the twins fought and he'd not even heard it?

He made a note not to indulge in sparkplay in such a precarious situation. It left him far too drained, if he hadn't even heard the scuffle the twins went through. Though it would be a while until he saw his lover again after he started visiting the other units for training purposes.

He opened his mouth to call out to the brothers, but halted; his battle computer wringing itself in fits with the wrongness of the picture.

Prowl had forgotten to put Firestorm away (unusually careless of him, but he had been quite distracted). The pieces lay scattered (and a few even smashed) across the hallway.

Neither Sideswipe nor Sunstreaker would be so careless with Prowl's belongings.

He activated his stealth mode, quieting his leg actuators as he took the final step to the ground level. His doorwings flared out pensively, increasing the span of his sensor sweeps. He pulled his rifle from subspace, pausing by each door to look into the room beyond.

The image of the yellow optics watching him burned itself in his image processor.

The playing board with a too thin layer of dust.

The ghostly sounds that none of the Autobots had made.

He caught a glimpse of gold and cautiously slid over for a better angle, rifle lifted and ready.

He felt like every circuit had fused in alarm.

The twins lay offline in the room they'd been occupying, energon welling from deep gashes. '_They didn't do this to one another,'_ flashed through his processor.

His proximity alarms suddenly screamed, and something _very_ large and _very_ solid slammed into the back of his head. Prowl staggered forward under the force of the blow, whirling in the same motion and bringing his rifle to bear.

He dropped as he spun about, sweeping out a foot and sending the mech behind him crashing to the ground.

A shot pierced his armored canopy, throwing Prowl forward. He rolled, neatly flipping over the large mech and knocking him down again.

The mech snarled, and a blow smashed Prowl's face for the effort. One of his optics cracked and glitched. When he looked up after his systems recalibrated he could still see the Open Convoy looming over him. The large mech shoved him, spinning him around to face the room.

Half a dozen mechs loitered about the two Toughlines, weapons drawn, yellow optics blazing.

Prowl fell to his knees, systems stuttering in fear. A soft keen worked its way from the tightness in his vocalizer.

One of the mechs had his gun carelessly pointed at Sideswipe's head. Piercing yellow optics watched Prowl, waiting to see what the tactician would do.

"Let's not have any trouble shall we?" The obvious leader of the group looked up at the Convoy behind Prowl. "Tie him up. Shouldn't keep the bondmates separated, should we?" The rough voice rose in mockery of his prisoners.

Prowl couldn't find the power to move, his battle computer coming up with system errors as it sought a solution. He could only think of how he shouldn't have listened to Sideswipe, shouldn't have given in to his own desires. Because now, they knew. They _knew_. And Prowl had been so stupid as to have given away their secret.

His weakness.

"I'm sure that _somebody's_ going to pay a handsome price for _you_."

The gathered mechs laughed uproariously as the Convoy yanked Prowl's arms behind his back, slapping a pair of energon cuffs onto Prowl's wrists.

The large hands jerked Prowl to his feet and marched the tactician over to the prone twins.

He should have paid attention to his battle computer.

How much more stupid could he be?

* * *

Post Note: The Neutrals were hiding using tachyon-based camouflage units. Essentially it's a low-consumption camouflage that keeps their particles moving so fast it let light pass right through them. It's a new technology at this point (which is why it didn't register on any of the three's sensors), but the Autobots won't use it because they are high maintenance units, and while running the camouflage isn't fuel consuming, starting and stopping the system is (due to breaking the light-speed barrier). As a form of energy however, it bounced off the mirror creating that miasma effect (affected by the color of the mech). The second time Prowl was using not just his sensors, but seeing them in the energy of his spark as well when he was with Sideswipe.


	25. Off Planet

I'm attempting not to let 6 months go by (again?) before updating. This is technically half of a larger chapter, but I think it wanted to be broken down anyway. I can't quite guarantee at this point that the next chapter will be up very soon, but I _am_ seriously, _diligently_ working on getting there. As for the second half of this chapter? I'm attempting to not break the pattern I've set up in my head for the next few chapters.

Off Planet

**Author's Notes **Once again playing with the meaning of twin bonds. Lots of angst in here, be forewarned.

So many huggles and snuggles go to Tiamat1972, Lunenightingale, lambotwinlove and RogueRaven21 for supporting me as I angsted with my characters.

* * *

A ventilator squeaked somewhere within the empty corridors of Moon Base 1 in its fruitless effort to move air throughout the base. Rubble piled along the edges of the corridor, the only clue that told of the previous inhabitants. After being so long on a planet that deteriorated as fast as it regenerated, it was strange to see that things had not changed since they had abandoned the Moonbase. Their steps echoed in its vast emptiness, the vibrations of their steps disrupting the long-settled debris.

Prowl took it all in, already set on calculating the length of time to bring this base up to battle standards. He pressed his lips together, engine grumbling irritably as his computer gave him a number. Most of the material could quite likely be recycled from damaged components and scrap around the base.. He would have to speak to Ratchet about that. The rest would have to be fabricated from material they brought with them (and he immediately began calculating that cost).

Jazz appeared at his side, motors humming with the effort of carrying the large crate to Prime's trailer.

"Who left it such a mess?" Jazz grunted with laughter, before continuing on his way.

Prowl vented a sigh, his doorwings dipping briefly in irritation. He didn't deign a retort to Jazz's question, turning toward the shuttle to assist in the unloading.

A red hand clapped onto his shoulder tire. "Oh no you don't. We'll handle this. See if Prime wants you to do anything that's not strenuous. "

Optimus turned his wheels, lights flashing to show he heard Ratchet. "Prowl, why don't you go see if you can get the computer system up and running. Start running a diagnostic and check for any shorts in the system."

"Yes, Prime." Prowl obediently made his way to the control room.

He spent the next few cycles attempting to locate all the shorts and damaged wires and circuitry within the main terminal. A few of the buttons still didn't work, and the main screen had an irritating fuzziness and a line through the top, a problem he notated on his datapad for Ratchet to look into. He knew that Jazz had swung into the room to check on him, as had Ratchet, both with different reasons, but he acknowledged neither of them.

He would much rather bury himself in his duty, occupying even just a little bit of his processing power with this rather mindless work than face either of them.

Ratchet, who worried for a friend that refused to explain what was going on. Prowl's attempts to explain away his recharge habits as being disturbed by the preparations for Magnus' crew to come down had been met with stony silence. Ratchet did not believe him. That hurt, because Prowl had never had cause to lose the trust of any of his subordinates, or his friends. It was illogical that it hurt, because Ratchet truthfully had the cause not to trust this time. Except that there had been no logical reason for Ratchet to not believe him when he didn't have access to all the information, and…

Prowl gave a sharp jerk of his head to get himself out of that line of thought. It threatened to go into an infinite loop that would only serve to crash his battle computer.

Jazz, once again the mech made no sense in his choice of actions. Prowl did not understand what he hoped to accomplish by dragging him on this mission. He would not simply reconsider his decision to reject Jazz because of a few metacycles alone with the saboteur. (An attempt that is now a moot point due to Sunstreaker accompanying them.) Jazz had always seemed so emotional, indeed he could be very lovable—if annoying –and was known to share this 'love' with most of the base (and then he walked the lines of fraternization with disconcerting ease.). Prowl simply couldn't comprehend why Jazz was acting in the way he did.

Another sharp jerk of his head dislodged the attempt to go down that particular route. It would serve no purpose. He did not know Jazz well enough to try to puzzle out the reasons behind his actions. He could however calculate the likeliest path the saboteur would take if he wanted Prowl back in his berth.

Saboteur.

Prowl knew that in a small group of Special Ops like Jazz's team, the members covered more than one area of expertise. Indeed, Bumblebee could spy almost as good as Mirage, and Mirage knew the basic mechanics of sabotage. Jazz could cover all three bases easily. He knew Jazz had utilized political sabotage on Decepticon Warlords that had become a pain in the Autobots' collective diodes in the past. Prowl knew that it was something Jazz unconsciously used even amongst his fellow Autobots to get his way (although normally it came out more as his normal charming manner, rather than outright blackmail).

Knowing now, just what Jazz was capable of, Prowl could no longer trust the mech.

Another painful twinge surged through his spark. He could no longer trust a fellow Autobot as Ratchet could no longer seem to trust him, as Prime no longer trusted him.

His doorwings twitched with the proximity of another.

He looked up from fitting wires into a circuitboard, and greeted Optimus Prime.

"Was there something else you needed, sir?"

"Status report, Prowl," Prime answered without his normal pleasantry.

Wincing internally, Prowl updated Prime on the repairs that would be necessary to maintain the main computer. He finished replacing the circuitboard so that he might turn his full attention on his commander. They discussed parts to be fabricated, or repaired, weighing them against the parts that would also be required should anyone need repair.

When they were finished, Prowl turned back to fixing the console, but paused when he saw that Prime hadn't moved yet.

"Was there something else, sir?"

Prime narrowed his optics, his posture straightening as though gathering resolve. "Prowl, I have taken the liberty to assign quarters while you have been busy." He handed a datapad to his second-in-command. "I realize that we have a lot of work to do here, and you are both capable of taking the time to work out the differences between you. We cannot afford to have personal problems affecting the war effort. I cannot spare my second-in-command, and would rather not see you crash like that again."

Prowl held himself still. "Yes, sir."

"I expect that when he is here, you two will share recharge times, am I understood?"

Power drained from Prowl's systems, redirected to stymie his processor at this turn of events. "Yes, sir," he said after a moment of redirecting power to his vocalizer.

The Autobot Commander stood in patient silence before his optics flashed, and his engine grumbled, and he turned and walked back out.

Prowl stared down at the datapad in his hand, grinding his dental plates as he couldn't break his gaze away from the room number marked as 'Jazz/Prowl'. If he would be forced to keep Jazz's company each recharge cycle, he would be burned in the Pit if he didn't make sure to find the least pleasant missions for the saboteur to go on.

* * *

It was with great trepidation that Prowll entered the quarters he shared with Jazz for the first time. He had been avoiding it all day, he hadn't even taken the time that had been provided to unpack his belongings.

Jazz stopped what he was doing, still holding the crate that he had been shuffling to a corner of the room.

"Did Prime not inform you of the rooming arrangements?"

The crate creaked as it settled on the floor. Jazz stared at Prowl, his jaw slack until his mouth snapped close in a grim line. "No, he didn't. I wondered why Brawn brought all this in here." The saboteur warily approached Prowl, as though he had a reason to be leery of Prowl. "Didn't think ya'd come get it 'til I left, though." He stopped just close enough that he might brush Prowl's cheek seam with his fingertips. "Didn't think ye'd assign us togethe'."

Prowl jerked his face away, his optics burning. "_I_ didn't!"

Jazz's hand dropped and he silently contemplated Prowl.

Prowl didn't lower his own gaze, glaring back at his unwelcome roommate. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, his doorwings flared.

"Prime's tryin' ta help us patch things togethe'?" A smile, only barely reminiscent of his typical grin, ghosted across his face. He moved closer, wrapping an arm around Prowl's waist and tucking their chestplates together to press a kiss to Prowl's lips.

Prowl yanked himself out of Jazz's arms. "I'm not doing this again, Jazz."

The smile faded and Jazz caught a black wrist. "Prime's gonna expect us t' have scratched an' patched paint when we report next. He's gonna 'spect somethin', an' then y' can just kiss yer sweet Sideswipe good-bye." His visor hid his optics, but couldn't hide the flash of dental plates, bared in a snarl. An expression so quickly replaced by hope that Prowl wondered if he had imagined it.. "I'm yer friend, I'm just tryin' to help."

Prowl slapped Jazz's hand away. "Help me? _Help me?_"

"Yeah, helpin' ya. Won't y' let me do that?"

Prowl's vocalizer practically hissed and spat his words. "And so you 'help' me by volunteering my presence where I don't want to be, and refusing Sideswipe accompanying us. You 'help' me and expect my… my body as repayment, this is how a 'friend' helps?" Prowl's doorwings drew back, his joints locking one by one in rage. "You 'help' me by blackmailing me. You 'help' me by using that information to _rape_ me."

Jazz stiffened, his optics flaring behind his visor. "Rape? You call what I did '_rape_'?"

Prowl hissed between his dental plates, "I seem to recall Sideswipe using that same word. You didn't react then."

Jazz advanced on Prowl to jab the Datsun's grill. "Sides ain't you. An' what about that time y' were comin' ont' me? Was that 'rape' too?"

Prowl froze, guilt plunging its icy hand through his processor. "That was…" he grimaced at the unbidden images and sensation of his hand stroking over the other's hood, "a mistake."

A nasty grin broke out on Jazz's face. "Yeah, I'm not surprised t' hear ya say that. I thought I'd finally gotten through t' ya, till I found out about Sideswipe." He laughed softly, derisively. "Man, did that ever take me fer a crazy spin. I can't imagine how you and Sideswipe even fell for each other. Yer nothin'-"

"I'll not discuss my relationship to Sideswipe with you. I don't owe it to you. I owe you _nothing._" Prowl waited for an objection and when none came from the stiff figure, he allowed himself to relax a margin. "I am depleted. I'm only here to recharge." He turned toward the berth.

"Prime's still gonna expect us ta look like we've been-"

Prowl suddenly spun about and charged Jazz. He caught the saboteur on the neck, slamming him into the desk. Jazz glitched a sound, surprise bared in his grimace as Prowl pressed his chin up.

"You want your paint scratched, Jazz?" Prowl swung the other mech about, slamming him into a nearby wall. "Is that what you want?"

"Couldn't we do this in a more pleasant way?"

Prowl's doorwings drooped even as his anger rose and he shook his head. "No…" the word growled out from between his dental plates

Jazz pushed at the arm holding his chin up. He suddenly leveraged his feet against Prowl's torso, kicking him away. "I'm serious. Prime's expectin' us to work this out. He will get suspicious if we don't look like we've been interfacin'."

Prowl tucked his hands under his bumper. "The humans make their mates 'sleep on the couch' I believe when they have disagreements."

A black hand smacked into the visor and Jazz burst out laughing. "Man! You're the last mech I ever expected to hear that from. You been hanging around Hound too much or somethin'?"

Prowl shot a glare the saboteur, one that the other didn't even notice as he continued his peals of laughter.

"I don't know if you ever noticed, Prowlie, but we ain't human." He buried a snicker in his hand, yet the laughter burst out like it had been forced from his vocalizer. Prowl wondered if he was attempting to alleviate the tense air in the room. "Prime ain't gonna buy that, and y' know it." He stepped forward, reaching out to brush his fingers over Prowl' arm. "Besides, I could still tell Prime about you and the twins."

Prowl jerked back. "No."

"Do ya really think he'd believe-"

"Stop! That's not going to work on me this time. You can't use Optimus against me anymore. You would be in just as much trouble for blackmailing me, for lying to him-"

"Ya think he's going to believe Sides and Sunny? Ya think he's gonna believe _you_? He ain't gonna listen to nothin' ya say. Cause, what's to stop me from sayin' that you threatened me t' get me t' play along? An' when I came in slagged that time, was cause I was gonna spill the energon to Prime. An' who's he gonna believe? Me or you? You who lied to him fer _how _long?" As he spoke, his hand traveled up Prowl's arm, gripping the upper strut to pull the Datsun closer.

'_This isn't happening again. No, no! We had stopped this. We had control of this.'_

Except, Jazz had a point. It would be difficult for them to refute that claim. Prowl would need time to think up a counter to it. Time he didn't have right then. He had just slammed Jazz around. Primus, he could see fingerdents on the saboteur's neck, the telltale denting and scrapes of excessive force. If Jazz went to Optimus then…

'_This isn't happening!'_

"Jazz, don't do this."

A black finger tilted Prowl's head up to allow wide optics to meet the dim visor. "I just want to help."

Prowl's vocalizer glitched, and panic seized his systems as those hauntingly familiar lips drew closer. "Don't…"

"Please understand, Prowl. That's all I'm trying to do."

Tender, so tender, belying the harsh words of a bare breem ago, those lips brushed his. Trembling. Needing. Wanting.

'_Not again..._'

* * *

"What the frag is your mal_func_tion?" A red fist slammed onto the desk on the last word.

Prowl jumped at the sound. Despite the unexpected rest he had gotten, at Ratchet's insistence after a check-up revealed that his systems had not yet recovered from their lack of recharge, Prowl still felt almost unaccountably edgy. Almost, for he truthfully knew the reason he could get no rest and relaxation. That reason had departed for Cybertron this past megacycle. He calculated that Jazz would be gone for the better part of the next few decacycles. It would be a short reprieve. He didn't know what to do _again_. He highly doubted that Sunstreaker would care much beyond ripping Jazz apart, which would, truthfully, not help their case any. He would have been obligated to bring it up to Sideswipe this time, if his lover had actually been stationed with them.

"Prowl!"

Prowl jumped again, looking up at Ratchet in surprise. "I apologize, Ratchet." He paused to run through his auto-recall, but flicked his doorwings when he didn't receive anything. "What was it you said again?"

"You're processor glitching, Prowl?" The medic regarded him silently for nearly a breem, his systems revving moodily. "Who is it?"

Prowl puzzled that question over for a small while, staring at a spot on the crates that made up Ratchet's desk. "Who is what?" he finally asked.

Ratchet threw hands up. "Who is doing whatever it is that's causing your systems to glitch you online." He scooted the datapad on his desk around to face Prowl. He pointed at one of a series of readings on the screen. Each of the lines varied in spikes and valleys, but Prowl had a feeling he knew what they represented. "This is your normal processor activity." He pointed at another that lay flatter than the first with a series of large bumps. "This is your normal recharge activity." His curved fingertip slid down to another line. "This is your processor activity when it's stressed." The medic pressed his lips together, his optics narrow slits. "Like it is now." He moved his finger back up to the top line in the series. "This is what your systems have logged during what's supposed to be normal recharge cycles."

Prowl stared at the nasty-looking jagged line that spiked and dipped its way across the top of the screen. He pressed his lips together before turning a carefully neutral gaze on the medic. "It does not look... normal."

A snort exploded from the medic's frame. "Oh, no slag!" Ratchet idly spun the datapad with his forefinger, resting his chin on the edge of his hand. He pulled the datapad toward him, and placed a second one next to it. "These are the readings I've been taking these past few decacycles."

Prowl's doorwings lifted and his optics widened. "What?"

Ratchet didn't answer as he set them side by side, staring at them for a long moment before turning the datapads to face Prowl. He pressed his lips together, his gaze shifting between Prowl's face and the two pads. Finally he spoke, his voice soft, and distant. "They're almost exactly identical. They shouldn't be. You haven't suffered anything like this..." The medic's optics flashed. "You haven't suffered like this since Halifax."

Prowl didn't even twitch at the name. But with it came the memories of blue hands ripping into his doorwings, and a presence within his processor; unwelcome, invading, taking.

"I'm your friend, Prowl." Ratchet leaned forward, his expression earnest."I'm asking, as your friend, tell me what's going on with you?"

"You are making a supposition. There is-"

"Prowl, please. I'm not going to tell anyone. Who is it? It's not Jazz, is it?" The medic's expression darkened. "Or Sunstreaker? Sideswipe?"

Prowl resolutely met Ratchet's gaze. "I don't wish to drag you into this, Ratchet. This is not your concern."

Ratchet's engine grumbled as he huffed. "So, there is something going on."

Prowl stiffened as he realized his mistake. Too late to retract his words, Prowl fumbled in his processor for a response. He needed more recharge than what Ratchet could spare him if he was making mistakes like this. "It is nothing more than a spat between Jazz and myself. There is nothing to be done about it until we work ourselves through this."

Ratchet narrowed his optics, unconvinced. "You and Ultra Magnus had your tiffs, I remember, and I know there were some big ones, but none of them made you react like this. The only time I've seen this kind of reaction from your systems was after that whole fiasco in Halifax. You couldn't recharge then, said you could feel Starscream in your systems.

Prowl sat silent, his hands tucked under his bumper. He stared at the datapads, calculating the lengths of each line, the angle of each peak, the width of each valley. He frowned at Ratchet, finally collected enough to meet the medic's optics. "I'm dealing with it."

Ratchet threw his head back with a guffaw, forced as it was. "Yeah, sure. You're 'dealing with it.' That's why I keep having to call you back to see how much recharge you're _not_ getting." He suddenly straightened, slamming his palms flat on his desk. "Slag it, Prowl! Don't try and pretend like there is nothing wrong! I'm a doctor, I can't help you if I don't know what's going on!" His optics flared, and he vented a sigh. "I don't have to tell Optimus, if that's what you're worried about. There's doctor-patient confidentiality."

Prowl huffed a laugh, the corner of his mouth lifting in amusement. "I can't believe you're trying that on me. I do know better."

Ratchet shrugged. "Was worth a shot." He leaned forward. "But that's the problem, isn't it? Optimus can't know, whatever it is?"

"If you are done with your exam, I have duties to attend to."

Ratchet frowned, but leaned away. "Yeah, I'm done."

Prowl stood, holding himself stiff to keep from swaying. "Thank you, Ratchet." He turned to go.

"I'm here, if you ever need to talk."

Prowl paused at the threshold. He didn't look back. His systems revved but he didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. Cybertron didn't have the same laws as Earth; something like this, if Ratchet knew, would have to be taken to Optimus. He turned down the hall.

He would have to find an alternative place to recharge while Jazz was away on missions. He… couldn't relax in that room. Even with Jazz not there.

* * *

He needed more personal belongings. Jazz practically overflowed the room, even leaking into Prowl's little corner: souvenirs from his missions, from Earth. CDs that he enjoyed listening to, trinkets he occasionally messed with. Prowl's corner, on the other hand, reflected the strictly utilitarian personality of its owner: a box of Firestorm, another of chess, and then a small locked chest that held his meager collection of personal items. The crates Jazz had shifted about before, had been datapads erringly brought to the quarters, but intended for his office.

Prowl stared ahead, particularly at his corner. Not at any one item, but just as a reminder that this was his quarters as well. Anything that wouldn't remind him of the mech spooned against his back.

The arm draped over his side.

He could almost fool himself into thinking that Sideswipe pressed up against him. At least until the other shifted and a bumper scraped against Prowl's canopy.

Then there was no fooling himself that the black hand that stroked his headlights belonged to his lover. Prowl struggled to maintain his lately tenuous hold on his emotions. Five metacycles of constant stress on his systems was finally beginning to take its toll.

Five metacycles.

Over five years on Earth, and they had sped by where that one metacycle had dragged. He counted endless breems, instead of eternal seconds. Megacycles instead of days. Decacycles instead of weeks.

They had flown by far faster than Prowl considered possible. Time defined by the presence at his back, or lack thereof. Time defined by black hands that didn't belong to Sideswipe stroking his panels, pale lips on his neck. Time defined by short stints of recharge in cramped spaces and abandoned accessways.

He couldn't _think._

Exhaustion had long snatched away his ability to concentrate on more than duty, and refueling. Ratchet was beside himself in rage, beginning and ending each visit with a demand for an explanation, one that Prowl obstinately refused to give.

Lips suddenly brushed his audio receiver. "Ain't ya s'pposed ta be rechargin'? Ratchet'll fritz if y' continue t' operate without a proper charge."

Prowl dimmed his optics, relaxing his face to give the illusion of recharge.

Jazz remained silent, hovering over Prowl. One of his hands stroked what were likely supposed to be reassuring circles on a black and white doorwing, only serving to tense the Datsun even more.

He finally laid his head down at the back of Prowl's helmet, a sigh rushing from his vents. "Is it because of me?" His fingers twitched on the panel. "Is it cause of what I did?"

Prowl said nothing, but his joints squeaked, tightening at the unwanted touch.

Jazz's hands clenched and he stayed quiet for a good five breems. Prowl had counted each astrosecond.

Suddenly the saboteur climbed over Prowl's thighs.

Prowl jerked, optics flashing on, expecting the worst. Worn gears and hydraulics tensed in anticipation.

It only seemed to intensify whatever emotion moved Jazz, sapping his grace as he stumbled to his feet and stalked out of the room. He didn't even look back.

Prowl huddled in on himself, his optics locked on the door that had closed behind Jazz. He stared until his internal alarm chimed for him to report to duty.

Still, Jazz hadn't reappeared by the time Prowl left the quarters.

* * *

Prowl sat at a console in the control room, adding onto a list of needed armament to defend the base. His thoughts, however kept wandering back to the saboteur who'd never made an appearance during the following recharge cycle.

Not that it mattered.

Even without Jazz in their quarters, the memories remained.

"We could probably use another turret in Sector 37."

Prowl started, surprised by the smooth voice above him. He looked up, mumbling a greeting to Sunstreaker "What was that again?"

"A turret. In Sector 37?" Sunstreaker tilted his head, a frown pinching his lips. "You've been staring at those same lines for over three breems. I figured you couldn't think of anywhere else to fortify."

Prowl reset his audio receptors and optical systems a few times before acknowledging _Sunstreaker's_ tactical advice. "I was…thinking. Thank you, Sunstreaker." He entered the location into his list and another as it occurred to him.

Sunstreaker crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his hip against the console next to Prowl. "Are you and Jazz still _fighting_?" He bit that last word out with all the loathing he normally gave the minibots.

Prowl stared at the screen for a long half a breem before saving his work and closing out of the file. He stood and walked out.

Telling Sunstreaker would accomplish nothing except to escalate the situation. He couldn't afford that. He wouldn't be able to think his way out of it.

He was just so tired.

* * *

He had only just slipped offline when his proximity alarms went off, jolting him conscious. He looked around in alarm, grabbing at the hard edges of the crate he leaned against, and pulling himself upright to find for the source of the signal. Bleary optics finally focused on a figure silhouetted against the crates that sheltered his little dark corner.

Gold flashed beneath a horned head and the figure resolved into Sunstreaker. A curious expression lay upon his normally sour face, his optics flickering wildly in an unusual manner.

Prowl straightened, stretching locked joints, pushing away from the crates that had pillowed his head.

Sunstreaker moved then, approaching Prowl with jerky motions that lacked his normal grace.

But the way he walked… The way he held himself…

It wasn't right…

And it was so hauntingly familiar.

"Sunstrea-"

Golden arms wrapped Prowl into a close embrace. "Primu_shk_… Pr_aww_l… what's go_innk_ on?" Sunstreaker's vocalizer glitched and spat, like a transmission broken by interference.

Brow ridges drawn together in confusion, Prowl couldn't help but to lean away from the suddenly demonstrative mech. He pushed at the gleaming chestplate, recalling almost belatedly to be wary of scratching the smooth finish. "Sunstreaker, what are you doing?"

Unaccountably, Sunstreaker began chuckling, laughter broken by the hissing static that seemed to plague his vocalizer. The strong hands tilted Prowl's head up. His face hovering alarmingly close, optics narrowed as though in concentration. "Only doin' this fer Sides," he breathed, vocalizer suddenly ungarbled and clear.

Before Prowl could say or do anything else, Sunstreaker pressed his lips against the tactician's, molding them over Prowl's own. Prowl nearly froze in shock at this occurrence, but the way Sunstreaker kissed… The way he held Prowl's face… and knowingly caressed the joining of his faceplate and helm…

Primus, that wasn't the way he kissed.

That was… That was…

Prowl's knees buckled, smacking him against the warrior's chest. Sunstreaker caught his shoulders, clutching the tactician to his frame, needful.

"Si~des?" Prowl had never known he could sound so petulant.

"You loo_khaa_rrible. Wh_ahhh_t'_zz _goin' _ahn_?" The arms tightened, Sunstreaker burrowed his face in the crook of Prowl's shoulder.

"I… I…" He couldn't form the words. He couldn't process this scene before him.

He couldn't comprehend how this was happening. How it was_ possible._

He crashed.

* * *

"Prowl. Prowl! Slaggit Prowl would you come online already! No, fraggit Sideswipe! I'm not hitting-" The hands shaking him suddenly stopped, and the grip changed, easing. "_Pzzzr_owl?"

He didn't want to look. He wanted to lay there and listen to that sweet (if very _off_) voice. "How are you doing this, Sides…Sunstreaker?"

"No_tchhhim_portant,"said the Sideswipe tone. Fingers caressed his face, and Prowl leaned into the familiar touch. He didn't want to see the golden hands that touched him; he only wanted to envision the black ones from his memory. "Just _kht_ell me what's w_raa_ng."

Arms pulled him against a warm frame. "It's Jazz, isn't it?" Sunstreaker snarled past the static of Sideswipe's warmth.

"I can't think of anyway out of it. I'm just so tired." Finally he activated his optics, reigning in his disappointment when it Sunstreaker's countenance greeted him.

The loving concern seemed so out of place on the golden twin's face. Anger flashed through those optics; familiar, and tangible as a memory file. They shared the same anger, Prowl noticed, absently comparing the anger witnessed far too closely from both mechs.

A golden thumb stroked along his cheek, and the mech sighed. "Wish _Ahhhk_ould be there _fzzhhoo_r you."Lips brushed against Prowl's. "Can't _shkk_tay." The voice strained for a moment, and the light in Sunstreaker's optics dimmed. "Can't _hkko_ld on."

A smile twitched Prowl's lips and he reached through the haze of his confusion to stroke Sunstreaker's face. Words trembled on his vocalizer, something he'd been meaning to tell Sideswipe for a while. Something he'd wanted to say before he'd left. "I love you."

The optics brightened, and a smile played across the mech's mouth. So strange and out of place on the golden twin. His mouth tilted in a manner Prowl identified as distinctly Sideswipe. "_Lhhheeeeet _Sun_neeee kheelp._ Prom_ishhhhhk_ he'll _dhoooo_ what _dhyou_ tell 'im._" _Even as the words were said, Sunstreaker's face scowled disagreeably.

"I'll keep it mind."

"Can_sshhh_- ho_lkhh." _Panic seemed to overtake the strange face. _"_I-" The mouth snapped closed and Sunstreaker's systems suddenly reset.

Prowl watched, optics wide in worry, hand hovering uncertainly, until the blue optics powered back on.

Sunstreaker-and somehow, Prowl knew that it _was_ Sunstreaker, with no trace of Sideswipe- pulled away from Prowl. He winced, rubbing at his head and chestplate. He glared around the room, avoiding Prowl's gaze. "Well?"

Prowl stared blankly. "Well?"

Sunstreaker scowled. "Yeah." He dragged himself to his feet, offering a hand to a much surprised and very confused Prowl.

Prowl let the other mech pull him to his feet, catching Sunstreaker as he nearly toppled over. Sunstreaker rested against Prowl for a moment, only serving to add to the tactician's confusion.

"Yeah," he said again after a moment. "Well, what-"

"-th' frag is goin' on?"

* * *

**End Note **I hope you all realize by now how much I love cliffhangers. (Hanging from a cliff!)


	26. Bargained Off

Bargained Off

**Author's Note** This is officially its own mini-arc. XD I've got the next chapter written, and I've started on the one after that (with a good portion pre-written). I plan on letting this carry me as it will. (dragging out? Me? never!) The Jazz Arc will not be ended until after this small storyline reaches its conclusion. But that is written and ready, just waiting. :)

For those in the know, yes, I have no self-control.

**Warning! **Implied rape.

* * *

They came online at the same time, shifting as quietly as possible to find each other, and then take in their surroundings. Dim optics focused briefly on Prowl, before sliding past him and to their guard. Prowl gave them only a passing glance, his single working optic taking in their bright eyes and careful movements. His attention, however, was focused with singular intent on the face in the small viewscreen, and the scratchy voice coming over the speakers.

"What you're asking is a ridiculous amount."

The black mech ('_A Slingrider,_' Prowl decided, seeing the stubby sensor wings and the Wheeljack-like long frame.) shrugged indifferently. "Considering who I have, the price is fair. Of course," the yellow optics flashed, "I could always see how much I can wring from the Autobots."

The silver face sneered. "The Autobots have nothing, and would likely cost you more in a rescue attempt than they could give in ransom." The red optics roved amongst the Neutrals. "I don't think you had to put too much effort into capturing them, you're not very damaged at all. How do I know this isn't some Autobot trick?"

"Truthfully? You don't. I'm willing to leave them in the care of one of your underlings for you to come and fetch at your leisure. As long as we receive payment, it doesn't matter to me."

Prowl could see the calculation running across the Decepticon's face, see him weigh his options, weigh the costs. Prowl narrowed his optics, the deceitful tyrant was being too open for Prowl's comfort. Surely the Neutrals would realize this?

"There must be more to this price than the simple capture and transport. What else are you selling?"

The sensor wings twitched, and the black mech narrowed his optics. "Information you might find useful."

Megatron frowned, unsatisfied with the vague answer. "What kind of information?"

The Slingrider stiffened, but amusement gleamed in his yellow optics. "Information I'm sure you'll be quite interested in. But I can't tell you what it is unless I have payment in hand."

Megatron's frown deepened. "Is that so? Well there's the problem. How can I be certain that the information is worth the price we pay."

The Slingrider chuckled. "_I'm_ certain that you'll consider it worth your credits."

Prowl tuned out the heckling. He knew what they were making a bargain over, and didn't need to know how much the Neutral band was going to make off of Prowl. Sideswipe turned his head to blink at Prowl in confusion. His hands clenched reflexively, and he winced toward his side. Prowl stared at Sideswipe, twitching a doorwing up, asking his own question. Sideswipe waggled his fingers, waving off the tactician's concern. Sunstreaker furrowed his brow ridges, glaring at his brother and then looking away as quickly. Prowl ducked his chevron trying to hide his observations of the twins as their guard turned their gazes on their charges.

Sunstreaker kept shooting quick glances at Sideswipe, who shifted about in what Prowl recognized as a secretive shrug. The twins shifted a lot, and Prowl realized that they were conversing with each other. He stiffened, joints whining, trying to gain Sideswipe's attention. The red mech finally looked his way and Prowl glared. '_Stop,_' he told Sideswipe with a precise flick of his doorwings.

Sideswipe tilted his head toward the screen, brightening his optics by a few increments. '_What are they talking about?_'

Prowl stared out of his single working optic, pressing his lips together until the color drained from Sideswipe's optics. A curse spat out of Sideswipe's vocalizer.

"No talking from the prisoners." A foot lashed out, slamming into Sideswipe's side. The warrior grunted, glaring up at his captor, as he curled in on himself.

Sunstreaker lunged forward. "You slagger! Don't touch Sideswipe!" He slammed into the guard, knocking the large mech to the ground.

The Neutrals immediately surged forward, bringing their shocksticks to bear. Sunstreaker bellowed in pain and rage.

Calculations flashed through Prowl's battle computer. Decision made, he shoved himself to his feet and threw himself at the nearest mech. His depth perception skewed by the damaged optic, Prowl flared his doorwings, tuning the sensors high to triangulate his chosen target's position. He shoved the light-weight mech off balance before lashing out with a savage kick. His foot slammed down on the grey mech's throat, metal giving beneath his heel. Sparks and electronic whines bubbled out of the Neutral's mouth as his vocalizer died.

Prowl next went for the one of the mechs piled atop Sunstreaker, one of the ones actively pinning the warrior to the ground. He didn't attack. Instead he ran up the blue mech's back and began to systematically kick at every face in reach of his feet. "Get. Off. Of. Him." Each word came punctuated with a foot in some poor Neutral 's face.

Sunstreaker snarled and shoved his way out of the pile.

Prowl tumbled to the ground, catching himself on his knees. He shoved himself back to his feet, doorwings wavering to balance his ungainly chest.

Sunstreaker's hands came up, suddenly free, and a red and grey mech fell away from him with an energon knife sticking out of his neck. He tackled one of the bounty hunters assaulting Sideswipe, throwing the mech into the wall. He turned, optics blazing white when his brother screamed.

Prowl turned at the pained sound, his own optics burning bright.

One of the Neutral s had crammed their shockstick into Sideswipe's wounded side.

Sunstreaker went dead silent, but his optics flicked over their opponents, centering on the mech hurting his brother.

Prowl took in everything, processor and tactical programs racing for a solution. His gaze flicked between Sunstreaker and the mech holding Sideswipe. They expected Sunstreaker to act.

Doorwings upright in righteous anger, Prowl launched himself at his target, His shoulder impacted with the face of one of the minibots in the group. His doorwing jerked, smashing and shattering the yellow optic band.

Shocksticks cracked across his canopy and windshield, shattering the plastiglass. He couldn't stop; he had to get to Sunstreaker. Hands grabbed at him, sliding over slick armor, snagging at edges and joints. Sunstreaker looked up in surprise when Prowl appeared by his side.

"Run." The tactician swept another of the Neutrals off his feet. He paused when he saw Sunstreaker hadn't moved yet. "_Go!_"

Sunstreaker whirled suddenly, ripping into the minibot Prowl had just incapacitated. The Convoy suddenly appeared in front of Prowl, hammer-like fists swinging right into the tactician. He slammed into a nearby wall, processor fritzing wiith the force of the impact. Sunstreaker landed next Prowl, but he picked himself up immediately, optics still ablaze.

"What are you do-"

The look—brief as it was—that Sunstreaker turned on him stopped Prowl mid-sentence. He knew, as he should have known before he even considered the plan.

Sunstreaker wasn't going anywhere without Sideswipe.

Frag it! Prowl shoved himself, charging in to keep the attention off Sideswipe. What had he been _thinking_? Of course one brother wouldn't leave without the other. One of the Neutrals managed to grab hold of his wings, wrenching back with all his might.

"All right _everyone_, stop right where you are!" the Slingrider roared.

Slag, slag, slag! Prowl snarled, unable to turn and see what made the mech sound so certain of their obedience. But his sensors placed him by Sideswipe. Prowl swung his body about, knocking the hands off his doorwings. Hexagonal nuts! He had to do something to discourage the Neutrals from doing that!

The Slingrider shook his head at the Autobots. "I mean it, do something like that again and you'll be lucky to have any pieces of your bonded to salvage." He pointedly kicked at the gaping hole in Sideswipe's side, sending up sparks. The gun pointed at the warrior's head never wavered for an astrosecond.

Sideswipe cried out again, folding over double in a futile attempt to ward off anymore blows.

Power drained from Prowl's systems, and the tactician glanced to Sunstreaker in alarm.

The golden mech snarled, every system grinding in unfettered rage. Prowl looked toward the Slingrider for a brief moment, and then he lunged for Sunstreaker.

"Let him!" the Neutral shouted at his team.

The golden warrior had already moved, but Prowl changed his course in a single springing step. He tackled the golden warrior, using his momentum to throw the Sunstreaker off his feet.

"Slagger! I'm going to rip him apart!" Golden hands clawed at Prowl chassis, shrieking over the white plating with an urgency born of desperation.

"No, Sunstreaker!" Prowl used his battered chest plate as leverage against the stronger warrior.

The furious gaze shifted to Prowl, and for a moment the tactician wondered if he'd made a mistake in underestimating Sunstreaker's devotion to his twin. "No?" he growled.

The bounty hunters didn't give the warrior a chance to say anything more. Prowl had given them time to regroup, and they moved in, shoving Prowl away to pin the golden mech to the ground.. They did not spare Prowl either, throwing themselves on top of him. Their hands dented his plating, and bent his doorwings. One grabbed his chevron, yanking hard enough to tear the metal. Spots exploded across his vision, alarms sounding in his processor and flashing across his HUD.

The Slingrider stepped over to Prowl, bending over to glare at the tactician. "I will not tolerate anymore such displays from any of you, the next one to act up is going to end his existence, _do you understand?" _The yellow optics glanced over to include Sunstreaker in his glare.

"Completely." Prowl spat.

Sunstreaker grunted an affirmative.

"Cuff the yellow one." The mech turned his intense gaze back to Prowl. "And you... I think your tactical computer has given us enough trouble for one bounty, don't you agree? Screwtop, plug in, sever his motor controls and I want that battle computer of his shut down."

They held him down as Screwtop did as the Slingrider commanded. The mech invaded his processors, spreading like a gelatinous liquid. Prowl repressed a shudder at how easily the Neutral managed it. He couldn't, however, repress the sense of violation the action had left clinging to Prowl's processor. His access port was not something he used for casual data relaying, Not something one of his rank would typically do even with the Autobot Commander.

The mech—the team medic more than likely—sent alarms singing through Prowl's systems. He couldn't move! The medic disengaged the link and stepped away. Prowl stared at the floor in front of his working optic, unable to even move his head to look around, much less able to move his optics. Attempting to connect to his battle computer only brought back massive error after error. His vocalizer buzzed at his inquiry, and he allowed himself to relax. He could still talk, even though he'd lost access to his battle computer and his motor functions, at least he could still talk.

The speakers hummed as the Slingrider took the communicator off mute. "I apologize for that disturbance, Megatron. I believe we were about to close this deal."

The tyrant laughed, sending chills up Prowl's spinal relays. "For that show, I agree to your price. I'll let Vertigo in Halifax know you're coming, and that you are to be paid the price we set. I trust that he can determine whether the information is worth what you're asking."

"I'm certain that it will be." Static hissed as the communication was cut off.

Silence then, only disturbed by the hiss of relaxing hydraulics.

"Storm's cleared."

"Then get them in the cages and let's get moving before they cause us anymore trouble. We aren't making money standing here! "

Rough hands lifted Prowl up, and the tactician caught glimpses of the twins being hauled up in a similar manners. But where they were placed on their own two feet, the Convoy threw Prowl over his shoulder, hauling him like a load of spare parts.

Prowl glared at the ground a short distance away, unable to even move his facial features into a grimace. He glared, trying to pull a solution from his memory banks, trying to think his through without the assistance of his battle computer.

He came up with nothing.

* * *

Prowl lay in the bottom of his cage, fretting at his inability to do so much as move his optic or get that slagging doorwing of his into a slotting more comfortable position! Prowl dimmed his optic, glad that at least he could still allocate power to his systems; it might have been the only thing keeping him from going completely stir-crazy. He wanted to move! Oh Primus how could anyone sit still for so long without going completely out of their processor. His chronometer ticked away in his HUD, teasing him with each number that flicked over to the next.

He vented harshly, earning a curious glance from the minibot perched on his cage. '_Don't panic,' _he told himself.

He turned his attention to the other two cages in the trailer with him, situated that Prowl could see them despite his inability to move. Sunstreaker glared at the minibot pointing a gun at him. Unlike the one watching Prowl, this one knew better than to sit on the cage itself. Sunstreaker's cage sat on its side. After the minibot had taunted him one to many times, the warrior had thrown himself at the side of the cage. Such had been his force that he not only knocked the minibot off the top, but actually rolled the cage. He now sat on the door of the cage, smirking smugly at the minibot now perched on a shelf in the trailer. The fact that his actions had resulted in the cruel application of the minibot's shockstick didn't even seem to faze him.

Prowl couldn't make sense of the mech's actions.

Sunstreaker glanced at Sideswipe, hands tucked under his aft. The smug smirk melted into a flash of concern that just as swiftly disappeared. The golden mech shifted, optics sliding toward the tactician. He was trying to tell Prowl something, but what? Prowl couldn't puzzle it out. It was nothing like the method of communication he used with Sideswipe.

What did Sunstreaker intend to do?

Prowl had no way to convey his confusion to the golden mech, but he flickered his optics, hoping Sunstreaker would understand. Sunstreaker frowned back at him, but sighed gustily from his vents and leaned back against the floor of his cage.

He looked to Sideswipe then. He couldn't look long though, it hurt him to see his lover so broken: leaning against the bars of his cage, optics dim, ventilators wheezing unevenly.

Prowl couldn't help but to blame himself for their predicament. He should have insisted they relocated to a more secure location. Though nothing would have kept the bounty hunters from tracking them if they so desired. They apparently recognized the three of them well enough, or at least Prowl, himself.

Just how many times had either of the twins referred to Prowl by name?

Prowl's thoughts kept him distracted from the disturbing sight of Sideswipe spattered in his own energon or the panic at just what kind of damage these slaggers might have wrought on the all-too-still mech. Sideswipe was usually so lively, rarely still and always moving, even if it was just a flash of thought across his face.

Seeing him sitting there, looking for all the world as though the Neutrals had also disabled his motor relays and damaged his major cognitive functions had Prowl's systems surging with fright. And panic. And fury.

_'Calm down,' _he reminded himself again. '_Sideswipe is their bargaining chip. Correction, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are their bargaining chips with me. They believe we are bonded, they will not permit Sideswipe to deactivate in their custody.' _But that did not stop them from leaving him weak and in pain.

Prowl shut off his optics, determined not to look at Sideswipe if it caused such a strong reaction in him. He focused internally, eying the worm that left him unable to move and unable to _think_. Screwtop knew his business, likely keeping such a thing on hand for problem prisoners like himself. Viral programming like this shouldn't have taken hold so easily, but Prowl could detect the tweaks made to his firewalls that left them defenseless. Worse still, Screwtop had somehow managed to lock Prowl out of the settings. Prowl worked at it, having nothing else to better his time. The going was slow, however, without the aid of his tactical programming, and he felt sluggish going through his own processor.

They slowed and came to a gradual, but complete stop. The halt rattled Prowl against the bars of his cage. Unable to brace himself, he pitched to one side. It relieved him not to see Sideswipe in his horrid condition anymore, but left the minibot in full view.

The small mech stared at the back of the trailer, face vague with internal communications.

"We're here," the one watching Sideswipe stated. He hopped down, shockstick never wavering from the red plating.

"'Bout time."

Prowl's guard said nothing, but shifted his stance a little.

"They won't let you leave alive," Prowl told them softly. His slack jaw slurred his words, but he knew all three had heard him.

The minibot above him jerked, thrusting his shockstick down.

Pain lanced through his frame; his neck blazed with a hot point lodged into the midst of his neck cables. Prowl couldn't even scream. His vision flickered, unable to remain online with pain glitching through his circuits. Static blasted through his audio sensors and he couldn't hear the words the Neutral snapped at him.

Systems locked up in their inability to curl him into a protective ball. The stick jammed deeper into his neck, digging down under his shoulder struts.

Finally Prowl did scream, his voice cracking and breaking as his ventilators whirred uncertainly.

"No talking from the prisoners."

The hot spike of pain twisted then, and Prowl blacked out.

He didn't know for how long, but it had to be several breems.

When he came to his senses he found red optics staring at him through the open door of his cage

He recognized Vertigo from the profiles they kept on the various Decepticon Commanders. The optics narrowed above the red-trimmed mask into an eyesmile. It was nothing like Wheeljack exuberant grin, or Prime's patient smile. Prowl immediately didn't like that look.

"What's your name?" The mech shifted, leaning to one side. His optics never left Prowl's though, and he knew the Decepticon was testing him.

Prowl remained silent. His gaze straying to a point beyond the base commander.

Metal rang together, stinging across Prowl's cheek. It felt like he'd just been clubbed, but he couldn't even flinch at the smack of the 'Con's pincer-hand. "I asked you a question. What's your name?"

The red optics turned up to the Slingrider, the narrow slits no longer smiling.

A panicked look crossed the mech's face. Then the bounty hunter snarled, grabbing the shockstick off the minibot and jabbing it at the unresponsive tactician. "Answer him, you slagger."

Vertigo grabbed the Slingrider's wrist.

If his battle computer had been up and running, Prowl was certain this would have crashed it.

Vertigo dragged the bounty hunter closer, metal bending under his pincer claws. "We are paying for him to be intact: mind and body. Why doesn't he respond? What have you done to him?"

The Slingrider didn't cower at the Decepticon's withering glare. "We've done nothing more than subdue him. He talked out of turn on the way here; he's just not answering you." The black mech jerked his arm out of the red pincer. "You simply need to give him some proper motivation." The Slingrider reached through the cage and grabbed Prowl's doorwing, dragging him onto his side. Pulling the twins into the view of Prowl's single optic again.

Prowl watched in muted horror as the bounty hunter then approached the closest cage.

Sunstreaker snarled and scrambled away from the bars.

Attempting to access his battle computer was like hitting a titanium wall. He had to do something, anything, to take the attention away from the twins. "Ricochet!"

The two acted as though they hadn't heard the tactician's shout.

Sunstreaker couldn't avoid the stick thrust through the bars of his cage. His engine ground with pain, before he crumpled over, onto his side, vocalizer keening.

The two mechs looked to the tactician. Vertigo's red optics flashed. "I'm sorry what was that?"

"You wanted to know my name? It's Ricochet." Prowl's frozen jaw slurred his words. He modulated his voice, raising it's pitch, trying to make it less his normal tone. What would Bluestreak do? "Please stop hurting him!"

The Slingrider drove stick deeper into Sunstreaker, tearing a scream from the proud warrior's vocalizer.

Anger at the Neutral pulled a growl from Prowl's engine. For that moment, he was glad for the lock on his servomotors. It kept his rage off his face.

Vertigo narrowed his optics into one of his eyesmiles again, leaving nothing pleasant on the Decepticon's face. Prowl suspected that his attempted ruse wasn't exactly working. The red mech turned toward the Slingrider. "You have the Autobot tactician, do you?" The mech's engine rumbled and he tilted his head waiting.

"Tell him!" the Slingrider snapped at Sunstreaker, twisting the shockstick into the seam he'd thrust it. "You both called him Prowl!"

Sunstreaker shook in pain, but he still managed to glare at the Neutral andspit acid into his words. "Frag. You."

The shockstick yanked out of the warrior's torso and flashed it across Sunstreaker's face. Glass cracked under the blow and Sunstreaker toppled onto his side, screaming again.

Prowl's systems spiked with panic. He had to stop this before...

The Slingrider jerked away from Sunstreaker and his footsteps resounded through the enclosed space as he stormed over to the other cage.

Sideswipe didn't move away from the bars he leaned against. He couldn't move away, Prowl realized with another surge of panic, he was simply too injured.

"You touch him, you slagger, and I'll rip out every micrometer of wiring in your body. DO YOU HEAR ME?" Sunstreaker's darkest rage only served to stir up Prowl's own distress. The golden mech struggled to right himself, shoving himself to his knees.

"This wouldn't be necessary if you told the truth, Autobot," Vertigo commented as though he spoke of the weather. "Your model matches, as does your voice, despite your attempts to cloak it. The paint is a dead giveaway."

Sideswipe shrieked.

"There's more than one Enforcer in the Autobot ranks," Prowl replied, trying to control the panic in his tone. "Even among Prime's unit there are three all together. I could be any one of them, or any one of the others assigned to the other units. Please stop this!" The red optics gave Prowl something else to focus on, even though they hovered at the edge of his vision.

He couldn't look. He mustn't look.

If he saw what they were doing—with his emotions laid bare by the silence of his battle computer—he would break, he knew it. He had to stay strong for the sake of all three of them.

Sideswipe's scream tore through him, nearly drew his attention.

Sunstreaker's inarticulate roar overpowered the sound of metal striking metal. Of metal ripping, and shrieking and giving way to a powerful force. Suddenly a golden streak drew a straight line to the Neutral . The warrior slammed into the bounty hunter, not even waiting until they landed before he tore into the mech's chest.

Much to Prowl's surprise, Vertigo threw his head back and brayed with laughter.

The Slingrider's engine gave an unhealthy snarl and he slammed his fist into the golden mech's face. When that got no more reaction than a reciprocating blow, the bounty hunter turned the shockstick on Sunstreaker. Then the minibot standing over Sideswipe's cage leapt down and stuck his stick into the opening between pelvis and thigh. Sunstreaker howled, maddened by the pain, but he didn't let go of the mech who'd hurt his brother.

Vertigo watched it all, optics bright and smiling that nasty eyesmile of his.

Prowl watched the golden mech scream in agony even as he continued to tear into the bounty hunter. He didn't even try to shove either of the shocksticks away, his fury focused on the mech beneath his hands.

The other two minibots leapt off their cages, yellow optics blazing in indignation. Their sticks rapped across Sunstreaker's tough plating, seeking an opening to cram into.

Sideswipe didn't even look toward Prowl, his singular gaze focused on his brother. He couldn't move, didn't seem to speak, yet Prowl knew that he supported Sunstreaker in his own peculiar way. Sometimes Prowl wasn't sure he understood the twins. If that had been Sideswipe, Prowl could not have watched so fastidiously.

Even now, Sunstreaker's pained and angry screams pierced down to Prowl's innermost functions.

He couldn't think. He couldn't come up with a solution, but he had to stop this!

"Prowl! My name is Prowl. Now please stop this."

The Decepticon didn't even turn his head. "Typical Autobot. A little bit of pain and you're quivering messes."

"What can I give you to stop them?" He didn't mean to sound so pleading, but petulance rang in his voice and despair drained the power from his optics.

The green-trimmed-in-red mech turned toward Prowl, his red optics flashing down at the tactician. "I don't believe you're in a position to bargain for anything, Autobot."

That halted Prowl, because he knew, even without his battle computer, the Decepticon was right. "Humor me," he asked the mech. "What would you want in exchange for their safety?"

The Decepticon took a step closer to Prowl's cage his expression inscrutable behind the mask. The tanks engine rumbled in a disturbing manner that left the few systems Prowl could control shivering in alarm. "Oh, I would want a lot in exchange for their safety, but I'm only permitted so many liberties with you until Megatron sends his envoy to retrieve you. They're mine to do with as I please, and, well, as you know those two have damaged a lot of my friends and allies."

"Coward," Prowl said without thinking.

The Decepticon slammed his fist into the cage hard enough to rock it back. His claws slipped through the mesh and bars around the opening and he yanked the whole thing closer to him. "I'd be careful about how you talk to me, _Autobot_, if you want to bargain for their sakes. They've made themselves unpopular to any Decepticon who takes to the air, and any they meet on the ground. You only make yourself a pain in the commands aft. Any mech on my base would much rather have one of them under their hands than touch you at all."

Sunstreaker's shrieks slowly died down, vocalizer dying like an alarm with its power cut. Prowl briefly turned his attention to the twin. Sunstreaker shivered and shook under the Slingrider pinning him into an uncomfortable position. His optics flickered uncertainly, and then cut off. His whole frame went disturbingly limp outside of the occasional surge tremor.

A glance at Sideswipe showed him no better off; slumped against the bars and mesh of his cage, optics dim and face slack. Prowl doubted that he was very coherent at that moment.

He couldn't stop this. Primus, as long as they were held captive by the Decepticons, he wouldn't be able to stop this. He wouldn't be able to stop the Cons from hurting his soldiers; his lover.

"I can't stop you," he repeated outloud. "But I want medical supplies so I can keep them functioning. Give me my motor controls back so that I can tend them. Much of my medical protocol is stored in my battle computer, give me access to that I want us in the same cell." He dimmed his optics trying to think his way through his words without thinking too hard about what he was doing. "Their lives. If either one of them die the deal is off."

The bounty hunter stood, kicking at the still shaking frame before he approached Prowl's cage again.

"That's an awful lot to be asking for in your position." Vertigo knelt down next to the opening in the cage. "What the frag do you have that you think I'd want so much?"

He spoke, not allowing himself to think the answer through. He collected his voice and his thoughts and brightened his optics at the Decepticon. Vertigo supported the Decepticon cause, he recalled, but not necessarily their commander. "Megatron gives you scraps and slag, letting you have them when I'm easily in your reach. I am the Second-in-Command of the Autobot army, and Megatron isn't going to pay you half of what I'm worth." He did not need to make any mention of the bounty the Neutrals would not be walking off with. "You're going to let Megatron dictate what you do to your prize?"

"You're running out of time and my patience, Autobot." The tank tilted his head toward the approaching Neutral.

"I will ensure that they do not cause you too much trouble. I'm their officer, I can control them. I have some sensitive information that will be useless if you wait too long." Primus, let this work, let him control that flow of information. If Vertigo planned on simply taking the information from Prowl's processor, this would be a useless gesture. However, Prowl knew how Megatron worked. The tyrant would want that information for himself, and likely he only trusted Vertigo not to take it himself. He wouldn't want his subordinate to have the information.

"You would betray your comrades?" Suspicion understandably colored the Decepticon's tone. Hope flickered through Prowl, and he thought perhaps he had gauged Megatron correctly. He almost giggled with relief, his hold on his emotions faulty.

"I will cooperate with you, to save the lives of the two mechs with me," he flashed his optics and then dimmed them meaningfully, "_whatever_ you require." That made him want to scream and bodily object, but he could only sit there, and he certainly couldn't indulge that scream. Not yet, at least, for this Decepticon would likely be like any other, and the screams would come for wholly different reasons.

Vertigo stared silently at him for another few astroseconds. Without saying a word to Prowl, he stood and turned to the Neutral.

"Are you convinced we are being truthful to you?"

"I am. Now, about that other information you mentioned..."

The black hand lifted, expectantly.

Credits clinked into the waiting hand, but Vertigo seized the bounty hunter's wrist before he could pull it back. "Thet information."

The Neutral's yellow optics flashed at Prowl for a brief second. "He's bonded to them."

Vertigo's gaze turned back to Prowl, and his optics smiled that nasty smile of theirs again. "Both?"

"I've heard that one twin can't bond without the other. Freakish hubs."

The red pincers released the other's wrist guards. "Get those two out of here. I'll meet you outside shortly." The Decepticon's systems noticeably sped up, earning a surprised glance from the Neutral.

The Slingrider wasted no time in getting the twins outside. He hesitated, staring at the revving mech staring at the final prisoner before he seemed to decide that it would be better to wait outside of the trailer.

Vertigo smiled again, optics narrowed into little slits. "You realize that there is nothing to stop me from breaking my half of the deal."

"Then I would have no reason to keep my end." Prowl's systems choked as the mech shifted toward him. "Don't you want to wait?" he asked, panic flashing through his processor.

"Why? Some reason you don't want to start now? Some treachery?"

He didn't dignify that with an answer. "At least give me my motor control back so I can respond."

Static roared in his audio receptors as the Decepticon laughed.

A red pincer hooked under his crumpled bumper. "I'm certain we can work something out."

The screams of mechs dying outside counterpointed the one building in Prowl's vocalizer.

Metal shrieked unpleasantly as the Decepticon dragged Prowl out of the cage.

* * *

**Author's End Note:** It might not be terribly clear, but the reason the Cons killed the bounty hunter team is because the Neutrals knew the whereabouts of the Autobot Second-in-Command. That is information too precious to leave in the hands of those with allegiance to no one but themselves and no scruples against selling the information to the Autobots.


	27. Slag Off!

Slag Off

AN: Shortly after Off Balance, Sideswipe discovers something new about Prowl.

* * *

Sideswipe strode into the room, his optics bright and step far too jaunty for his own good.

Sunstreaker growled, returning to the datapad in his hands.

Sideswipe flopped down next to his brother, flinging an arm over the golden mech's shoulder. "Springer gone already?"

Sunstreaker leaned away from the red mech, grimacing at the strong scent of ozone, a telltale sign of recent overload. He grumbled rather than answer; the factory reject just _had_ to rub it in, didn't he?

Sideswipe chuckled and sprawled out on his brother's berth, joints creaking with satisfaction.

Sunstreaker's grip tightened on the datapad, the metal frame bending under his strong fingers. How many painful ways could he deactivate his brother, right then? It would be a bit of a twist to reach his head, but his legs were within easy reach...

"Shouldn't he be too busy with all the slag that happened in that last battle anyways? Why the frag does he even have the energy to blow your fuses?"

Sideswipe hummed happily. "Guess he's just a mech like any of us, and enjoys a little bit of down time," and the way the red mech purred the words 'down time' had Sunstreaker sliding that much farther away, "just like the rest of us substandard models."

Sunstreaker shot his brother a scathing glare. "_You_ might be a substandard factory reject, but _I'm_ the best parts they had."

Sideswipe shifted in a shrug, grin melting into the pleased mien of the newly-bonded (which he had absolutely no fragging right to wear!).

Sunstreaker sneered. "Prowl can't even be that great of a lay. Come on, he's got that rod up his aft all the time."

Infuriatingly enough, Sideswipe didn't react.

Sunstreaker narrowed his optics, no longer focused on the screen as he tried to gauge Sideswipe's mood.

Besides sated, _that_ much was obvious.

"Seriously, Sides, that mech is so tight that even oil wouldn't loosen him up. He's _boring_, he's-"

"Likes handcuffs."

Sunstreaker sputtered to a stop, shooting an alarmed glance at his brother.

Sideswipe rubbed at his wrists, grinning like a maniac.

Sunstreaker decided that he _did not_ just see scorch marks circling his brother's wrists. He _did not_ still see telltale flecks of white paint on the tips of his fingers, or scuffed into his hip plates. He resolutely turned back to his datapad.

"And he likes chains too..."

The golden warrior shuddered. "No. He doesn't."

Sideswipe propped himself up, poking Sunstreaker in the side. "What the frag do you know about it?"

"Nothing. And I don't want to know anything. Prowl does not like handcuffs. And he doesn't like chains. And you, little fragger, are not discussing any of this with me. He didn't use any of those things on you. He is _boring_." Sunstreaker turned to glare at his brother. "And I want him to remain that way." He seized his brother's arm and pulled with all his might. "Now get your disgusting aft off my berth and go pollute your own. And no more nasty talk or someone's going to wind up with the worst paint job since Kup."

His threat would have worked oh-so-much better if that slaghead brother of his wasn't laughing so hard his vocalizer fritzed.

* * *

**Author's Notes **I know that Stormed Off was only 2 chapters ago (not counting this one), but for me, it has been even longer since I dealt with a non-angsty/depressing chapter for these two. I have another one planned, but that one must wait until the conclusion of the Jazz Arc, and who knows how long it'll be until I get back to that. So this is just a little reminder—as much to myself, as to anyone else—that these two are _fun_ together._. _Even if Sunny's not too inclined to agree. ;)


	28. The Deal's Off

Chapter 28

The Deal's Off

**Author's Notes **OMG YES I'M FINALLY POSTING IT! I fought a long, hard battle with this chapter. I only just finished the edits on this at the beginning of this month. I've rearranged the scenes so many times that I couldn't tell you what the original order was anymore. Augh. I hope to never have to do that again, at least not any time soon. I'm posting this, because all I'll do if I continue to sit on it is just poke it more. And I'm kinda sick of looking at it.

I cannot thank autumnsparrow enough for taking the time to beta this chapter. She rocks. Thank you, Birdie! And there's Tia, who listened to me rant for months (YEARS! Remember, sick of looking at it. Yeah...) about this chapter. Thank you Tiamat! And my readers who have waited so long for this chapter. I wish I could promise the next one soon, but, I shan't.

* * *

Blue dots scattered across the streets of Straxus, intermixed with a handful of purple and a few brown. Here and there yellow blinked idly on the screen. Prowl examined the map on the screen, picking amongst the streets and unmarked buildings. His attention wavered, distracted by processes normally handled by his battle computer. He couldn't focus, still cooling down from an intense overload that had left him reeling on the Decepticon's desk for over a breem.

Carefully, he pressed his finger against the screen. "Here. Last one. Neutral energon silo."

Another dot lit underneath his finger, marking the building.

Vertigo shifted behind him, leaning in to peer closely at the map. "Is that all of them?"

Prowl continued to consider the map, searching the street names for anything that looked familiar. Finally, he sat back, all too aware of the larger mech standing behind him. His doorwings twitched with the Decepticon's proximity. "Yes."

"Good. Now, then what are the passcodes."

Prowl leaned back a little further, and resolutely lifted his doorwings. "You promised medical supplies."

Vertigo snarled. "Answer the slagging question."

Prowl turned his head toward Vertigo, his lips pressed together in a firm line.

Vertigo lashed out, clubbing the smaller mech across the head, and knocking him to one side. The tank's foot crashed down on his roof, grinding him into the floor. Prowl's prominent chest bent forward, pulling painfully at his torso joints.

Prowl cried out, scrabbling at the floor to push himself up and away from the horrible weight on his back.

The Decepticon hooked his foot under the tactician's canopy, and promptly flipped Prowl onto his side. Vicious kicks to Prowl's chest knocked the Enforcer back on his doorwing, twisting the appendage the wrong way. "When I ask you a slagging question, I expect a fragging answer."

Prowl grunted, rocking with the next malicious kick. His doorwing, even twisted out of joint, prevented him from rolling completely on his back. It made every kick that much more brutal, knocking him across the floor like a piece of trash, and bending his plating in until it scraped against his systems.

"Get up!" Vertigo struck out again, lifting Prowl up off the floor with the force of his kick.

Prowl shoved himself away, trying to avoid the next blow at the cost of more of his paint job as he scooted away from the mech's foot. He gained his feet and stood before the more massive Decepticon, his doorwing held stiffly behind him. "I refuse to cooperate when my soldiers are beyond my ability to repair," Prowl spat.

The Decepticon swung at Prowl again, but the tactician ducked, backing into the console. "You should be fragging grateful that you're in the same cell as your bondmates. How about if I toss you in a cell down the hall, huh? How would you like that? Then you couldn't repair them." Pincers snatched at the tactician's jaw, latching under the hinge and wrenching his head to the side. Prowl staggered along, vocalizer keening in pain. "I'm being slagging generous and this is how you repay me? How about if I keep you chained up in my personal quarters and you'll never see those two again?"

Sparks erupted from stretched cables, millions of shocks along Prowl's sensors. His vocalizer glitched and he couldn't speak. For a breem? Two? Three? Maybe even an entire cycle before he managed to get any words out. "Never talk again."

The red optics narrowed, and Vertigo snarled. He yanked Prowl forward, throwing the smaller mech into the balcony railing that stood over the foyer to the Decepticon's grandiose office. "It would be risky to kill them both, but what about one of them? Do you think you can lose one and survive yourself?"

Those words wrenched something within Prowl's systems, and his doorwings shivered at the thought of. . . He couldn't complete that thought in this state, he barely had a grip on himself as it was. "You can't guarantee that the survivor would pull through, either. Twins tend not to outlast one another in death. "

The claws bore into Prowl's chest, and the metal bent with a painful wail. "How true. But my medics think that they can be sustained on life support, it should be enough to keep you functioning as well."

Systems froze, and Prowl's processor whirled desperately. He didn't want that. Oh, Primus. His job was to protect his soldiers, both of them. He could think through this even without his battle computer. He had to keep Vertigo from killing either of the Toughlines. "I can't stop you from doing as you like, but you'd have to wait for whatever handouts Megatron deems worthy of you, because you won't get a single scrap more of information from me."

The red optics narrowed and Vertigo snarled. He yanked Prowl forward, throwing the smaller mech into the railing that stood over the entrance to the Decepticon's grandiose office. "I could tell him that you died in transit, and that is the reason I killed those neutral bounty hunters. Not that it would matter as those were our orders, anyways. Then I would take your information straight from your central processors."

Prowl strained for a retort. He slogged though his memory files and all the… faces. "Too many have seen me, you could never pull that off." Prowl caught himself before he flipped over the railing, his only working doorwing flared out to catch his balance. He forced out a laugh, though he didn't have to try so hard. "If you had ever planned to do that you would have interfaced with me in an astrotick. You won't, though. Even you aren't that stup-_zzk_."

Vertigo lashed out, clubbing Prowl in the face. "I do not fear Megatron, Autoscrap. He is an idiot that could never have captured you successfully. Look how many times he has faced off with Optimus and never even gotten close to killing him. He could even stand in front Prime and completely miss the shot. "

Only a firm grip on the railing kept Prowl on his feet, his vision wavered, but he couldn't stop baiting the Decepticon or he'd give in to the terror pounding through his emotional relays. He had to compensate for the loss of his battle computer. "Megatron at least faces his enemies on the battlefield. You are such a brave mech with your captive."

Prowl thought he might have lost a few breem after that. He only knew that one moment he lay across the railing and the next he found himself on the floor. He didn't have time to register his surroundings as a heavy weight came crashing down, pinning him to the floor.

"Miserable piece of scrap!" Vertigo seized Prowl's chevron and slammed Prowl's face into the floor numerous times.

Dazed, and with his audio sensors shrieking with feedback, Prowl was only vaguely aware of the sudden presence of Vertigo's guards.

"Get him out of my sight! Impudent fool. I can't risk killing him before giving him to Megatron."

The guards lifted Prowl and dragged him out of the office.

"But don't worry, Autobot. We're not through yet, you and I."

* * *

Doorwings flexed out to catch his balance. Though he lacked any depth perception and static flickered across his single optic, his hands never stopped moving.. He twisted off another thirty centimeters of fried wires and burnt insulation. He cleaned the brittle remains out of the open wound. His hand brushed against live wires, inciting a small spray of sparks. The lights overhead flickered fitfully, their dim glow cast skewed shadows on the grimy floor of their small cell.

The mech twitched under his hands. Blue optics powered on, and black fingers seized his wrist. "Nn-no. Stop. Sto-p." Ventilators wheezed as Sideswipe tried to sit up.

"Shh, calm do wn." Prowl gently pressed the mech back down, and his hands lingered to smooth a stroke on red metal.

Frantic headshaking met his efforts and the grip tightened on the tactician's wrist. "No more, please no more."

Prowl pulled the hand off his wrist to let his fingers intertwine with Sideswipe's, and he gave them a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay."

"S-Sunny?"The mech's optics focused fitfully on Prowl for a brief moment, but no recognition lit his face .

Lips pressed together, Prowl shook his head once. "No. It's Prowl."

Confusion knitted the Toughline's brow ridge for another brief moment. "Prowl?" Blue optics stared long and hard into Prowl's own, before he finally relaxed. "Oh, Prowl…" Sideswipe's grip tightened, and he leaned his head towards the officer.

Prowl dimmed his optics, and stroked his hand up the wide chestplate and over the dirty neck cables. He brushed the joining of the cheekguard to the crest of the helm.

Sideswipe whimpered and flinched away from the touch.

Prowl quickly pulled his hand away, his lips pressed together and his doorwings dipped low. But he could not give himself time to allow the rejection to hurt. His battle computer whirred, calculating chances, possibilities, probabilities. Plans for escape (but none within an acceptable risk percentage), information that he could (or could not) relay to Vertigo (provided they receive the medical supplies promised; Prowl didn't hold out much hope for that), the effect captivity was having on them, the amount of damage inflicted on his lover. The things done to cause this amount of damage. If they didn't leave, the fearful reactions would likely only get worse. "I need to finish repairing your damage, before the wiring has a chance to short out."

Sideswipe changed his grip to cling fretfully to the black and white frame, a confusing contrast to his prior reaction to Prowl's touch. His head shook from side to side in refusal. "No, not right now. Please. Let me just lay here and wait for Sunny. He should be coming soon."

Prowl twitched his doorwings, but accepted the request. He wanted to ask—though he didn't necessarily want to _know—_what the Decepticons had done to him. He muted his vocalizer against the question, if only for the sake of the warrior's pride. If only for the terror that lurked deep within the lens of his optics

Footsteps made Prowl lift his head: the echoing, heavy thuds of a large mech and the distinct _step-drag-step_ of an injured one. His hand stilled on the black helmet, intent on the cell door as the sounds drew closer.

Sideswipe struggled to sit up, and this time Prowl helped lean him against the wall. The warrior kept one arm firmly wrapped around Prowl's canopy. His head came to rest against the officer's shoulder plate.

"What about you? How badly were you damaged?" The black head pulled away, turning so that the suddenly serious optics could sweep over Prowl's frame.

Prowl shrugged his doorwings. He didn't really want to contemplate what had happened for the past megacycle. "Not as badly as you have been. Likely not as badly as Sunstreaker, either."

Sideswipe's lips pressed into a thin, straight line. Then he pursed them together, his gaze locked on the tactician's frame.

Prowl sat up straighter,. He didn't need to look down to know that his lover's optics lingered an the patches of bare metal that showed through his paint job. He didn't need to look down to see the large chunk of white paint missing from the bottom of his thigh. Sideswipe did not need to try to imagine how the paint had scraped off in places, or how the red and grey made an appearance on the normally white and black plates.

He lowered the volume of his vocalizer, until his words resonated through his frame to muffle them from the approaching mechs. "They believe we are bondmates. I have done nothing to correct this assumption."

Sideswipe lay his head back against the wall with a soft, humorless laugh. "That's funny."

Prowl frowned, optics narrowing. He didn't see the humor in the situation, and told Sideswipe as much. He knew how reason could be overridden by terror in times of crisis. Had imprisonment finally accomplished what vorn of war and countless (actually 1,358 to be precise, because Prowl had counted) battles had never manage?

The red mech's lips pulled to one side. "Oh yeah, it's a slagging riot. The Decepticons have actually figured out our biggest secret. Something none of the Autobots even know about." Sideswipe leaned toward Prowl, body whining in protest, and his shaking fingers touched Prowl's chestplate. "It's fragging hilarious that I could kiss you, right here and right now and not have to worry about anyone finding out. Here. In the middle of a Decepticon stronghold."

Prowl narrowed his optics, and pulled Sideswipe's hand away from his chest. "Your sense of humor has a tendency to elude me, Sides."

Sideswipe laughed softly in spite of the pain he must be in, and he leaned closer still. "It's funny that I can do this." His lips brushed against Prowl's chin, his cheek, before finally briefly settling on his mouth. "And I don't have to worry about who's around.

Prowl froze at first surprised by the gesture. Initial protests that they shouldn't be doing this died with the realization that Sideswipe was right. He might be mad, but no less correct. It didn't matter. The Decepticons expected this. They would be suspicious otherwise. Prowl then laughed too, his vocalizer buzzing with static, and returned the kiss.

Sideswipe pulled away with a pained whine of hydraulics. He studied Prowl's face, seemingly oblivious to the continued approach of the guards and their prisoner. He leaned back with a groan. "You know, Sunny's gonna need one too."

Prowl needed a moment to process that. Then he frowned at the mech. "You simply have to go and spoil it, don't you?"

Sideswipe shrugged, but his smirk widened into a grin. "I kinda figured you would have thought of that."

His gaze suddenly turned to the bars, and he fell silent.

Two guards walked into sight, massive when compared with the limp yellow thing that dangled between them.

The hum of the bars faded, and they flung the body into the cell with a resounding crash as it struck the wall. It lay unmoving there, outside of a slight shudder.

Lip curled in a snarl, Sideswipe tensed, poised to heave himself to his feet.

Prowl grabbed at his shoulders and pressed him back into the wall. "Calm down,"

Sideswipe narrowed his optics his gaze locked on the cons, but subsided with a resigned sigh.

Sunstreaker moved then, one arm hanging limp as he shoved himself to his feet, to lean against the wall. Prowl could see how much pain he was in and his obvious and unsuccessful attempts to hide it. Sunstreaker would never come in contact with such a filthy surface otherwise. He glared back at the guards, face hidden by his audio vents. The pink light of the energon bars shimmered on his scuffed and scratched yellow paint, and the tears and dent on his metal frame as they reactivated

Sideswipe nudged Prowl with his elbow. Bright optics blinked up at Prowl, even though the officer knew the fuel shouldn't be wasted on them. Sideswipe didn't say anything, but he didn't have to; Prowl understood perfectly.

Even though he wished he didn't.

Resigned, Prowl stood, widening his optics and lifting his brow ridge into a concerned mein as he took the few long steps to the golden warrior's side.

Ice blue optics turned to look past Prowl and at the other mech. "Primus, Sides, is that all you ever think about?"

Prowl flicked his doorwings once, aware of the guards' gaze on them.

Sunstreaker continued to ignore the officer's approach until Prowl cupped his hands behind the black vents and tilted his head down. Sunstreaker tensed at the touch of Prowl's lips first to his forehead, and then to his cheek seam.

Grey lips hovered next to the golden slits. "They believe we are bondmates."

Sunstreaker's hand went to Prowl's side, gripping the gap where Prowl's doorwings emerged. The ice blue optics flashed down at the officer, a growl rumbling his engine, but he leaned down and kissed Prowl, lingering only for a few astroseconds before walking on past.

The golden mech crouched down next to his brother. Concern narrowed his optics as he lifted a hand toward the red mech.

Sideswipe leaned back against the wall, but when the golden hand rested against his cheekguard, he tilted his head into his brother's palm.

Sunstreaker's gaze traveled over Sideswipe's frame, as though he needed to memorize every dent and scratch. But even though his optics stayed locked on Sides, when he spoke he addressed Prowl. "So what's your plan?"

Prowl twitched his working doorwing. He didn't have to ask Sunstreaker what he meant by plan. It wouldn't take his battle computer to realize he wanted. He narrowed his optics at the normally golden mech. At this rate, he wasn't sure he could actually trust Sunstreaker to keep their cover. He frowned as he carefully considered his reply to the other mech. The problem of Decepticons listening in on their conversation was a constant in Prowl's processor, added to the need to keep the front of their presumed bond with each other. Prowl could only give so much information before it became obvious that the bond was merely a ruse. He decided to just keep the explanations to a minimum. "You will know it when you need to."

Sunstreaker snarled, but Sideswipe touched his leg and the two shared a moment of silent, inconspicuous communication.

"Fine," the golden mech gruffly conceded. He glared at Prowl, finally raking his optics over him. "I see they treated you as well as they did us."

Prowl stiffened, and then crouched down facing them. He flared his aching doorwings and angled himself to prevent his voice from carrying far behind him. He didn't want any listening device to catch their discussion. "Sunstreaker, I realize the arrangement doesn't suit you, but this is the best way I can think of to keep you and Sideswipe safe. It will be a difficult enough illusion to hold, but please remember to act as though we are bonded. You shouldn't ask such a question so loud."

Sunstreaker's frown deepened, eying Prowl's intact frame, his engine growling unsteadily. Prowl didn't need to look down at himself, he knew what Sunstreaker implied.

"Really, Sunny. I know he's not as damaged as you think he should be, but come on he still looks like scrap! Besides, this is Prowl we're talking about. Stop it." Sideswipe turned his head away from the golden hand; he slid sideways down the wall until he could put his head on Prowl's thigh.

Prowl rested a hand on the black head, and met Sunstreaker's glare with one of his own. He did not welcome the memory batch that the warrior's question had activated.

Prowl glanced down at the black head, wanting to be more comfortable for the both of them, the officer turned about, holding Sideswipe's head up with a steady hand while he settled himself against the wall next to him. Then he lay his lover's head back on his thigh. Decepticon frames and hands pressed along his body, the leering faces of the officers Vertigo had given him to. Worse still, he didn't entertain the thought of who he might have killed with the information he'd given. His soldiers did not need to know. "These are Decepticons, what else did you expect?" Vertigo had kept him for nearly the entire megacycle since he'd taken them from the bounty hunters.

A sigh rushed out of the red frame, and Prowl glanced down at the mech, unable to see his lover's face beyond his chestplate. Sideswipe shifted turning to lay on his back with a protest of joints and the squeal of his head on Prowl's thigh. The movement prompted a series of sparks from the injury. Sideswipe laid a hand on the open hole with a whimper.

Sunstreaker snapped his optics over to his brother, and all hostility drained out of his posture. He stood and crossed in front of Prowl to crouch on the officer's other side. He didn't look at Prowl, but reached under the black bumper to nudge his brother's head. "Slagger, why haven't you had Prowl fix that."

Sideswipe's head twisted around on Prowl's thigh, his left audio horn scraping the bottom of Prowl's bumper and the back of his head resting against Prowl's torso. "Wanted to make sure he didn't use up all the supplies on me. Slagger yourself."

Sunstreaker straightened, and leaned against the wall next to Prowl. "Tch, I don't need anything. Get yourself repaired." His hand slid between Prowl's canopy and the wall.

Prowl stiffened at the golden twin's proximity, snapping his optics toward Sunstreaker. Words died in his vocalizer when he saw the way Sunstreaker's arm hung limp at his side. He hastily set Sideswipe's head down and turned to peer more closely at the other warrior's arm.

Sideswipe sat up with a grunt and another sputter of sparks, bracing himself on an elbow. He still pressed his hand against his side as he stared at what had caught Prowl's attention. "Primus, Sunny. You-" The red twin's expression hardened. "You fragging idiot. Why didn't you say anything?"

Crouching down, Prowl examined the torn paneling with a frown.

The arm hung limply at Sunstreaker's side, the fingers of his hand scraped the floor and bent at random joints. Sunstreaker glanced down at his useless arm and scoffed. "I've suffered worse than this. Fragging Cons wouldn't know how to torture someone if a medic pointed out the most vulnerable parts."

Prowl glanced up at Sunstreaker, his frown deepening. "They do have cameras in here and are likely recording our conversation. Don't encourage them to try harder."

Feet clanged in the hallway, startling the three of them into looking wide-opticked at the cell door.

A guard walked into view on the other side of the bars. He held a tray in his hands. Three small cubes of energon cast a muddy glow over the mech's blue and pink paint job. His red optics traveled over the three Autobots in the cell, lip curling in a sneer, daring them to try something as he brought the bars down. Setting the tray down, he kicked it toward them, sloshing the energon over the edges.

Prowl grabbed Sunstreaker when the golden mech made as if to lunge across the short distance. From where he sat, he could see the tip of a rifle poking around the edge of the threshold; a mech lurking around the corner. Had they made any attempt to escape, the hidden mech would shoot, not caring who he hit. Prowl calculated that Sunstreaker never would have made it without being taken down, and possibly killed.

"That fragger!" the golden mech hissed.

Sideswipe's engine growled, an echo of his brother's anger.

"Do not push them" Prowl shook Sunstreaker's shoulder, drawing the mech's glower to him. "Don't jeopardize our steady source of energon. I will not allow you to jeopardize any of us. There is still plenty left in the cubes," Prowl calmly pointed out. Though the amounts were low compared to what they were accustomed to.

The guard waited a moment, to see if Sunstreaker would follow through on the threat in his posture. When nothing happened he sneered again and turned away from them to head back down the corridor.

Prowl stood (determining himself to be the most mobile of the three of them) and retrieved the tray of cubes. He carried it back, ensuring that no more energon sloshed over the sides. Then he handed one to Sunstreaker, and the other to Sideswipe. "Both of you power down whatever nonessential systems you can. Conserve your energon." He paused to consider their damage. "Sunstreaker shut down your left arm, as well. Sideswipe, make yourself comfortable and shut off your relays below your fuel tank." He met the red mech's surprised optics. The command would leave him crippled, not even able to respond in a timely manner as the spinal relays required a few breem to boot back up. "Refuel, and when you're done, I'll finish what repairs I can on you." Prowl sat down between the twins, and relaxed against the wall. He took up the remaining cube, and nursed it slowly; the low grade sour and dirty in his mouth. He stared at nothing in particular, running equations and scenarios through his battle computer. Prowl trusted the two soldiers to immediately notify him of any trouble.

Prowl accessed the maps stored in his battle computer, pulling up the maps of various Autobot controlled cities. Iacon had already been combed through during his session with Vertigo, before being brought to this cell to join the battered twins. The Decepticon officer had also shown him a map the nearby Autobot stronghold: Armistead, and now Prowl calculated that he could predict what the Decepticon would ask the next time he came for the tactician.

Of course this will all be moot if Vertigo doesn't deliver on his part of the bargain. Prowl didn't hold out much hope, taking into consideration that he was counting on a _Decepticon_ to keep his word.

He inventoried the medical supplies they had left., subtracting what he'd already used for the partial repair on Sideswipe, and then what he would need to finish those and then repair the yet to be examined in Sunstreaker's arm.

He came up sadly lacking.

Fortunately, the Decepticons had placed them in the same cell, small as it was, though that might have had more to do with their supposedly being bondmates than Prowl's request. Prowl could access his battle computer, but stuck in this single cell, without the proper tools the probabilities were not in their favor.

Prowl took another mouthful of the horrid energon, swirling the liquid around his mouth in an attempt to filter out some of the grit and grime. He needed more medical supplies, and Vertigo would not give them up easily.

Sideswipe tossed the cube away catching Prowl's attention in that motion. Air rushed out of the red frame in a sigh, and he slid back down to lay his head in Prowl's lap again, whimpering quietly as it jostled the raw and exposed circuits wound.

Prowl lowered his head, staring down at the black head in his lap and dreaded the Decepticon's next session. If he wanted to keep his soldiers in good repair, then he might have to gamble on the Decepticon's generosity. Unhappily, he disliked combining the concepts 'Decepticon' and 'generous' in the same sentence; it was like pairing Sunstreaker and crud: a disaster.

And if Sunstreaker continued to not cooperate it would disrupt their attempt to disguise their definite lack of a bond. Which could harm their chances of receiving needed medical supplies, and the three of them coming out of this alive.

He set his tactical and battle computer to figuring out that solution.

It was far better than considering how many mechs he had betrayed and killed with the information he had shared. And how many more he might have to sacrifice to keep them functioning.

* * *

Mechs paused upon noticing the unexpected guest standing in the corner. How could they miss the white plating in the blue room, even the black accents stood out amongst the cobalt highlights.

Most shocking of all, however, were the blue optics and the bright red chevron that glinted on his helm like an identifying flag. The red insignia that used to grace his chest lay in tattered remains on the desk of the Decepticon commander.

Vertigo moved as though he didn't notice his subordinates' hesitation. He signed the datapads put in front of him, moving with the grace of well-oiled and carefully maintained parts.

The door to Vertigo's office sat a level lower than the rest of the office, a defensive foyer that forced any mechs to walk up a steep ramp to reach the desk set in the furthest corner from the door. The desk itself provided a shield against attack, Vertigo had thrown Prowl against it several times and it didn't even bear a single dent. Prowl might not have been entirely up to date in the Decepticon inter-relationships, but he considered this a clear sign that the Base Commander had either made several enemies (and as he was a Decepticon, this was no difficult conclusion to reach), or he was terribly paranoid.

Prowl hunkered in his chosen corner. Sound shivered over his plating: a screech of metal on metal, the cry of a gear strained too tightly, the wail of a vocalizer on the verge of shorting from the volume.

It sent surges through Prowl's frame. Horror. Rage. Helplessness. Emotions unhampered by his battle computer, left him unable to truly process, had him hacking at the firewalls that blocked his battle computer wherein lay the shallow comfort of tactical layouts and simulations. It left him imagining what was being done to create those sounds.

He couldn't even identify the voices anymore; the vocalizers staticky and glitching from strain.

Another Decepticon entered, this one not even pausing for an acknowledging ping from his commander. He strode up the ramp, the deep blue of his paint standing out in the lighter cobalt of the floor. His red optics focused intently on Prowl, with far more hostility than any of the other Decepticons had shown.

He bore the mark of a medic and Prowl's gears whined as he tensed, unheard over the incessant screaming. The only medic that Vertigo would allow to tend to Prowl would have to be an officer. The very head of the medics.

Vertigo wordlessly gathered a stack of datapads into his subspace, and rose to his feet. The two officers greeted each other amicably (for Decepticons) as they passed. Vertigo left the room, and the door slid closed behind him. Leaving Prowl alone in the room with Halifax's Chief Medical Officer.

Among Decepticons that epithet may as well have said 'Interrogator.'

Prowl didn't say anything. He'd said enough, already.

Vertigo had relentlessly drilled him for the better part of a megacycle. Prowl had answered him, not completely and not always with full honesty. He'd implied that much of the information he could not readily access without his battle computer.

Then Prowl had refused to answer anymore questions. He needed those medical supplies.

That was when Vertigo got nasty and started throwing Prowl around. His cracked optic had blinked out completely, lens shattered by an impact against the wall or the desk. Prowl couldn't remember very clearly at that moment; he couldn't _think_. When violence had failed to get the answers Vertigo wanted, the Decepticon had ordered this terrible audio to be filtered through to his office. The sound of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker being tortured. Sound to put images to what Vertigo probably assumed Prowl could feel in his spark.

Unfettered without his battle computer, his emotions crashed through him with every agonized wail and scream of tortured metal. He'd started shaking, those sounds affecting him far more than anything Vertigo had done.

Now Counterpunch watched him with narrow optics. "_This_ is the Autobot's oh-so-feared second-in-command? _This_ shivering piece of slag?" The mech leaned closer. "How pathetically _Autobot."_

Prowl, bolstered by anger after a particularly horrid shriek coming through the speaker, glared at the Decepticon.

The Decepticon straightened, engine growling a warning.

But he didn't strike.

Prowl reset his sensor net, wondering if he'd somehow missed it? Had he gone offline and not even know it? Prowl watched the Decepticon warily, deciding that Counterpunch was merely biding his time for an appropriate moment.

Venting harshly, Counterpunch gestured at Vertigo's desk. "Are you going to move on your own or am I going to have to start nasty."

Prowl tightened his gears. "Why wait?"

Counterpunch grinned, red optics glowing malevolently. "Anticipation." He took a step closer, a leer spreading across his face.. "I wouldn't mind starting early if you refuse to cooperate, however."

A sonic torch appeared in the Decepticon's hand, flaring to life with a screech.

Prowl winced, and stood. He didn't take his optics off Counterpunch as he moved over to stand next to the desk.

Counterpunch grunted, and crossed over to the desk. "Sit."

Prowl sat down, trying to gain some kind of control on his emotions. Trying to ignore the sounds that continued to feed through the speakers.

The Decepticon curled his lip in a sneer. "You're so pathetic. I don't even know how Vertigo can stand touching you."

Prowl shuddered at the reminder. "Must you leave that sound on?"

Counterpunch laughed, and jabbed his hand into Prowl's bumper. "What a stupid question. Of course I must."

Something in that phrasing caught Prowl's attention. But it didn't mesh. It didn't compute. He couldn't access the meaning.

Counterpunch watched Prowl. "Shut down your battle computer?" Pain as probing fingers found the device lodged under Prowl's bumper. "Oh yes, I see. Well," he pulled at the Enforcer's chestplate, "I suppose we can't have you plotting an escape." He released Prowl, his red optics flaring with a strange intensity.

A medkit appeared in Counterpunch's hand. Prowl eyed it. A medkit could just as easily hold instruments of torture, as tools to repair.

Counterpunch sorted through it, and lifted out a drill. "I suppose I should get to work. Please scream, this is going to hurt after all."

The drill whirred toward Prowl's broken optic

* * *

"Are you going to talk?"

Prowl didn't answer, concentrating instead on forcing his arms and legs to move where he commanded them. They felt strange after being repaired. Prowl couldn't maintain his balance, neither physical nor mental. He just couldn't believe the Decepticons had effected these repairs. He was not wholly repaired, nor did he have access to his battle computer or his weapons and targeting systems, but his hydraulics had been fixed, and his damaged optic no longer gave him static. He didn't understand Vertigo's intent. But he knew that he still could not talk.

This had not been the deal.

Vertigo growled, before dragging Prowl upright, and securing his arms behind his back. Gears whined at the strain of having his arms wrenched so far over his canopy. The Decepticon shoved Prowl forward, with a growl to follow before striding out of the office at a rapid pace.

Prowl staggered after him, energon cuffs crackling against his wrists. His doorwings ached from being bent too far forward too long, and now his elbows dug into them, bending them too far back. He struggled to banish the memory of the screams that still haunted his audio receptors. He hated being so helpless. He hated not being able to do anything to stop it. .

He hadn't even gained anything by it. Needless suffering for no good reason! Slagging Decepticons who couldn't keep their words.

Vertigo jerked him to a halt just outside the entry to the brig.

Prowl stumbled, unable to flex his doorwings to catch his balance. The Decepticon's grip was the only thing that kept him from fallling. Vertigo seemed to enjoy catching the Autobot tactician off guard.

The energon manacles came loose, and Prowl's doorwings flared out for balance. Prowl flexed his hands and then his elbow joints, relieved to have the pressure removed.

Vertigo then pulled out the interrupter that blocked Prowl from his battle computer.

Prowl waited for the pincers to leave the seams of his plating, indulging in letting the revulsion show on his face since the Decepticon couldn't see it. Finally Vertigo shoved him forward again, letting the tactician lead the way into the cell block.

Prowl knew Vertigo's intent. He paused by their cell, staring straight ahead rather than acknowledge the mechs sitting on the floor.

Neither of the twins moved: their optics dark, their ventilators working overtime to cool damaged systems.

The bars powered down, and Prowl swept in, crouching down between the two of Toughlines.

Sideswipe stirred, though his optics hadn't switched on yet.

Prowl turned to him, resting his hand on the mech's shoulder. "Sideswipe?"

Sideswipe jerked away from Prowl, optics activating with a weak flash. A whimper burst out of his vocalizer, and he dragged his hand over the floor trying to get away.

Prowl caught Sideswipe before he could topple over, and injure himself further.

Sideswipe yelped, slapping weakly Prowl's hands. "Sunny!"

Sunstreaker twitched, optics lighting up.

Metal scraped and squealed as Vertigo drew closer; his mass a large echo on Prowl's sensors.

"Oh, Primus, no. Don't do this." Prowl murmured, tapping his knuckles against the mech's temples, making the optics flicker in response. Vertigo did not need to see Sideswipe like this. Maybe a moment's confusion could be explained away, but not if Sideswipe didn't recognize Prowl sooner. He brushed his lips against his lover's audio horn, imploring into the receiver. "I need you to see me. _Me!_ It's Prowl. _Look at me!"_

Sideswipe turned blank optics on Prowl, fear and confusion etched on his face.

Sunstreaker stood then, arm still hanging uselessly at his side. Prowl glanced up from Sideswipe to look at the other Toughline, staring hard at the golden mech with a silent command for him to remain still.

Sunstreaker glared back defiantly but remained in his corner.

The bars powered down, and Vertigo stepped into the small cell. His presence filling up the space, far more than his mass could account for.

Prowl allowed his doorwings to droop, pulling away from the frightened Toughline; his lover was terrified of him. He approached Sunstreaker, drawing closer than he normally dared into the mech's space. He stared into the Toughline's optics, not missing the bright threat lingering in them: a tinturkey trapped in the den of hungry turbofoxes.

"Are you okay?"

The mech's pale optics shifted from Prowl to the Decepticon still watching them from the open cell door. He grunted, reaching up to brush hesitant fingers over Prowl's hip. His face tensed and he looked toward Prowl, shoving the tactician away to struggle to his feet. "You're fragging repaired."

Vertigo watched Sunstreaker shake the drops off his fingers, his optics narrowed with speculation. "Don't you know what's been happening to him?"

Prowl glanced at the Decepticon, alarm flashing through his processor.

Vertigo tensed, his optics bright.

Sunstreaker bared his dental plates but didn't reply.

Prowl turned away from Sunstreaker to face the Decepticon. His doorwings shielded the taller mech, inviting Vertigo's attention to remain on him.

"The other one didn't recognize you?"

Sunstreaker growled, his hands moving up Prowl's back to grip the top of the black and white panels.

Prowl reached back to place a restraining hand on the warrior. A futile gesture certainly, but he did it as much for the Decepticon's sake as to actually check the mech.

"He is delirious."

A pincer-hand snapped out to seize the underside of Prowl's bumper. "What the slag is this?"

Sunstreaker's hands tensed on Prowl's doorwings, ready to yank the officer back.

Prowl didn't allow himself to react, he only pressed his hand against Sunstreaker's hip. He appreciated the warrior's willingness to protect his superior, despite his own misgivings. The last thing he wanted was for Sunstreaker to protect him, in this situation that was Prowl's responsibility. He wanted Sunstreaker to keep Vertigo from touching Sideswipe. He had to ensure both of his soldiers came out of this alive.

Addressing the Decepticon, he continued to press his back against the yellow plating behind him, holding the mech there. "I'm not sure I understand, could you clarify what you mean?"

"Why the frag didn't he recognize his slagging bondmate?" The red glare switched to Sunstreaker. "Would he recognize you?"

Sunstreaker's hand spasmed on Prowl's doorwings, an indication that the warrior knew the answer to that question.

"He might not, considering what you've done to him," Prowl replied, pressing the golden warrior toward his brother.

"Try it." The pincer hands snapped at Sunstreaker, threatening to seize the mech if he didn't comply. He grabbed hold of Prowl instead, yanking him away from Sunstreaker. "You stay over here," and he shoved the tactician into the unoccupied corner

Another growl stuttered out of the warrior's engine, the normally shining hand reaching for Prowl briefly. He turned on his heel then, and knelt next to his brother. He cautiously rested a hand on the beaten red shoulder, murmuring words too low for anyone but them to hear.

Sideswipe turned toward his brother's voice, optics flickering. He grasped at Sunstreaker's arms, letting the golden warrior draw him close. Still Sunstreaker murmured his reassurances. Sideswipe's head rested on the golden shoulder, and a sigh rushed out of his vents.

The pincer jerked Prowl forward only to drive him back, shoving him against the wall. "You're _not _bonded to them?"

Prowl activated his battle computer running a multitude of calculations through the system, though he remained outwardly calm. "Did you really think Prime would allow one of his officers to bond to a simple soldier?"

Inarticulate fury ripped out of the mech's vocalizer. The Decepticon clubbed Prowl to the dirty floor, sending him sprawling toward the twins.

Prowl vented sharply, shooting a stalling glare at the golden warrior before he had a chance to do something stupid. He pushed himself up, keeping his gaze neutral as he turned his optics on the Decepticon suddenly standing over them.

"You've been playing me for a fool!"

Prowl tilted his head. "I'm certain that I never said any such thing."

A blow glanced across Prowl's chevron, ringing through his systems. He reeled, staring at the floor without really seeing it. The cell spun about him, refusing to settle for longer than a moment before turning and twisting again. His energon levels read low, he realized, and if the Decepticon followed through with the beatings he looked to be promising right then, it wouldn't take long until the trauma would take Prowl offline He couldn't let that happen. He still needed to see to his soldiers.

"Keep it up," Prowl grunted, "and, repaired or not, I'll deactivate. How would you explain that to Megatron?"

Vertigo snarled and stomped down on his leg. "What can I do when you're resisting the guards!" Metal bent and tore under the blows punctuating each word.

Face slack with shock, Prowl tried to curl over his abused appendage before Vertigo severed any wiring or the leg itself.

Sunstreaker suddenly lashed out, kicking the Decepticon's leg out from under him.

Vertigo crashed to the floor with a resounding clap of metal and bellow absolute fury.

Sunstreaker lurched to his feet, staggering a step toward the hapless Decepticon.

Vertigo roared again, and he grabbed Sunstreaker's leg and threw him against the wall next to Sideswipe. "There's nothing saving them now, Autoslag! You can function without them, like it or not!"

Prowl forced himself to his hands and knees, but the Decepticon had already regained his feet first.

Vertigo grabbed him up and slammed him into the wall, leaning in close, his pincers grasping the cables of Prowl's neck. "Stupid slagger! That stupid slagging hunter!"His optics blazed with rage. "What did he see to make such a slagging stupid assumption then?" He slammed Prowl back again, lending weight to his anger. "_What was it?"_

Prowl strained, fingers of one hand wrapped around the red wrist. His chin pressed against the pincer finger, cables threatening to pull out of their moorings from the weight of his body. His other hand and his feet pushed against the wall, trying to relieve the pressure from his neck.

"You think I'm giving you _scrap_? You'll be begging to join them by the time we're done with you, you can count on that!" Just as abruptly as he'd seized him, the Decepticon dropped Prowl and stormed out of the cell.

Sunstreaker staggered to his feet again, stumbling over to Prowl and Sideswipe.

Nothing. He'd done it all for nothing.


	29. Off Limits

**Title **Star-crossed: Off Limits (29/36)  
**Characters/Pairings **Prowl/Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, more as needed  
**Warning ** Forced upload, implications of torture  
**Summary **We can never control who we fall in love with. Those determined to be together will let nothing stand in their way. This is one such pair.  
**Author s Note** A Lamborghini's fuel capacity is listed at 100L (26 Gal). (Further research reveals that a Datsun only has a 65L (17 Gal) tank. Solidifying my theory that Prowl's shorter than the twins. ;) However an energon cube must fuel the larger models and have enough for the reserves of the smaller, plus these mechs quite likely have slightly more fuel capacity than a normal car. And now, I no longer remember what the exact amounts are. Hopefully the percentages after that make sense. O_o

Sooooo many thanks again to autumnsparrow for betaing this chapter, and to tiamat1972 for the listening ear (and for her immense amount of patience).

Apologies if the scenes aren't separated as they're supposed to be. The site's eating my scenebreaks.

* * *

Prowl moved as soon as the Con had vanished; turning to Sunstreaker, and reaching up to guide the mech down.

Sunstreaker jerked away from his touch, his glare turning on Prowl. "You are. Fragging. Repaired."

"Yes, Sunstreaker. Forty three point seven percent of my damage was repaired. " Prowl said with more patience than he felt. He stood with one hand braced against the wall, while the other rubbed at his abused neck cables. "How extensively did they damage you this time? Sit."

Sunstreaker only stood there, fists balled at his side. "What the slag is all this about, Prowl? What's going on?" Anger and distrust etched itself on his ragged, and yet still beautiful face.

Prowl sighed, letting his doorwings flick down again. "I don't want to talk about this. Let me see to your damage. Answer my question." Sunstreaker's glare intensified. "Please."

"Who the slag repaired you?" His engine growled. "_Why_ did they repair you? You wanna answer that? Or is that something else we're not gonna talk about? He's taken you away twice now, and you haven't come back damaged." Sunstreaker took one single menacing step toward the officer. "Did you betray us?" He took another step, forcing Prowl to back along the wall to stay out of his reach. "DID YOU SELL OUT MY BROTHER?"

Prowl staggered as though slapped. "Never."

Sideswipe moaned, optics flaring briefly before fading out again. His fingers curled, scraping against the cell floor.

The two mechs glanced down, and Prowl moved closer to his lover.

Someone suddenly seized him from behind, gripping his jaw and twisting his head to one side. Strained cables pulled tight again, and Prowl's cheekguard clanked against a golden chestplate. "What?" Static hissed from his vocalizer, grunts at the aches and pains that pounded his damaged frame, but he didn't fight. Prowl knew how easily the hands holding him could twist his head off.

"Don't you touch him. Traitor"

Prowl glanced toward Sideswipe. "That is a ridiculous accusation. Not only am I an Autobot, like you, but I'm an officer." He couldn't even glare at the mech from this angle. "I love Sides, you know this. Why would I betray him?"

The hand yanked Prowl's head back, forcing the cables tighter. "No."

Prowl's vocalizer buzzed from the strain. "No?"

"No, I don't know. I know he loves you. Primus I wish I didn't, but that fragger loves you so much it makes me wanna purge. But you? I don't know one slagging thing."

Prowl slapped his hands over the warrior's and pinched and twisted the sensitive cables in his joints, pulling the yellow hands off his face. "I have never done anything without the best interests of the Autobot army and my soldiers in mind." He pushed away from the golden chestplate, glaring at the warrior. "How can you accuse me of betraying you? And Sides? Primus Sunstreaker, do you think so little of me?" He paused, allowing Sunstreaker absorb his words.

"What have you been doing?" Sunstreaker grudgingly conceded, but his arms remained tight around the tactician.

Prowl glared at the wall, the only thing in his line of sight. He could predict Sunstreaker's reaction already. "I bargained for your lives, for this cell together, and for the means to repair you."

Sunstreaker shoved Prowl away, systems heaving with contained fury. "Fragging slagger!"

Prowl caught himself on the wall. His head sagging painfully. "Do you think I'm just going sit by while they torture you?" He turned, resting his canopy against the wall to relieve at least some of the weight off his freshly damaged leg. Still his legs wobbled and his energy readings flickered their warning lights in his HUD. "These are _Decepticons_. They would have left you in worse condition, or killed you." He slid down the wall, hydraulics hissing with relief. Even his doorwings felt too heavy to hold up.

The warrior leaned forward, optics pale and narrowed. "You sold us out cheap, Prowl."

"Cheap?" He spat the word out, but could force no other emotion through his vocalizer, so drained was he. "You think that your lives, and your well-being—your safety—is cheap?" Prowl searched listlessly within the mass of junk that littered the floor; scrapped wires and jagged pieces of metal ripped off of their bodies.

"Slag the Autobots, slag our cause, now that you and your lover are in danger. Is that the logic behind your decision? Whatever happened to being able to separate your personal life from your duty?"

"I am not slagging the Autobots simply because Sideswipe's in danger. I would have done this were I captured and had Tracks or Cliffjumper, or Hound, or Mirage with me. Anyone else, I would have made the same bargain." Prowl glared at the golden mech, aware of how every rip and tear in his plating deformed the normally perfect specimen of Cybertronian beauty. "If, like Shockwave, all of my actions were solely dictated by logic, do you really think I would be on the Autobot side?" He closed his fingers around a thin handle, and drew a jerry-rigged tool out of the scrap. "Logic is not the only thing to determine my actions, or else I would never have cultivated a relationship with your brother. Have you forgotten that the Autobot cause is to save lives?"

Sunstreaker's lip curled, and he glared at the scraping tool in Prowl s hand. "Are you saying you think we have a pit's worth of a chance to get out of here?"

Prowl stared at Sunstreaker, smoothing his face into neutrality. "As long as we're functioning, there's always that one percent chance that we can escape."

Sunstreaker scowled. "That's slagging acceptable to you? That's slagging reason enough to give up Autobot intel?"

Prowl stood, forcing power from less essential systems into his leg hydraulics, and took a step toward the inert twin. "I cannot sit by and watch him suffer, and not act to ease his pain, even if I can't stop it altogether."

Sunstreaker's foot slid out from the imposing column of his body, ostensibly blocking Prowl's path, as if the cramped quarters of the cell would offer any refuge. His arms crossed over his battered chest and he leaned forward. "If you're trying to convince me that you have a spark anywhere in that flimsy, mismatched frame of yours, you're going to have to try harder."

Prowl huffed a laugh. "Same thing might be said about you." Prowl shifted his weight, preparing to move around the golden mech.

Hydraulics hissed when Sunstreaker matched Prowl's movement.

Black and white doorwings flared out and he glared at the other mech. "Let me by, Sunstreaker."

"Where are those slagging medical supplies you betrayed Sides for?"

Every system within Prowl's frame jolted. He ground his dental plates, his lips pulling back in a sneering grimace of his own. "They are called _Decepticons_ for a reason, Sunstreaker."

Sunstreaker didn't relent his glare, but he moved aside and let Prowl by. "Primus slaggit."

"I agree." Prowl knelt down, busying himself with tying off leaking energon lines and seeking out the electrical shorts he smelled. The mech's ventilators wheezed, strained and hissing with each wire that Prowl scraped clear. He felt around the gaping hole in Sideswipe's torso, measuring it with his eyes and pulling up prior measurements.

The Decepticons had ripped it open even more.

Without a repair kit he couldn't attempt to close the hole, all he'd managed to do was to pull out the broken wires and a few other minor fixes. Fortunately, the Decepticons had patched the worst of the damage, thinking Sideswipe's death meant Prowl's certain deactivation. Air hissed from somewhere within the wound. His fingers delved within the hole, seeking out remembered patches, and trying to find the new damage and how bad it was. Air rushed over his fingers and he paused staring at where his hand rested.

Sideswipe moaned, shifting away from Prowl, pushing at his hand.

Prowl muted his vocalizer to a whisper, stroking the red chestplate in what he hoped to be a reassuring manner. "Shh, it's okay."

Sideswipe batted weakly at the hand probing into his wound.

Sunstreaker crouched down next to Prowl, reaching out to cup Sideswipe's cheek. "Stupid slagger," he grumbled, vocalizer glitching with emotion.

Sideswipe's optics flickered again, powering on completely to look at his brother. He smiled without saying a word and rubbed his face into the comforting hand.

Prowl looked away, turning back to the problem he'd found. Air hissed out of one of Sideswipe's ventilators, escaping through a hole just out of Prowl's reach. He moved his hands over the red chest, knowing the location of each latch without even needing to pull up a schematic. Fully unlatched, he lifted the chest plate on its hinges.

Sunstreaker growled beside him.

Air whispered out of punctures in the ventilators, and coolant foamed lightly out of the edge. Prowl set to work, pinching the holes close to the best of his ability. He sat back after he finished, examining his work.

"You're no Ratchet," Sunstreaker commented leaning forward to look over Prowl's welding.

"That is for certain. He needs a trained medic." Prowl glanced at the arm hanging uselessly by Sunstreaker's side. "You, as well." He closed the chestplate. "He also needs fuel." A quick check of his own levels made him wince. Instead he looked to Sunstreaker. "What are your readings?"

"Enough." Sunstreaker didn't elaborate, intent on the hand he stroked over Sideswipe's face. Sideswipe stirred at the touch, black fingers clinging to gold.

"Think they'll bring any?" Sunstreaker turned a most pitiful face on Prowl, as open as the tactician had ever seen on him.

As if in answer to the question, an arm reached through the bars, and deposited a full cube.

"One?" Sunstreaker's face twisted into a scowl, and his voice rose indignantly. "How the frag do you expect us to fuel three mechs on one slotting cube?"

Prowl grabbed Sunstreaker's arm, forcing his face toward him. "Quiet." His optics flashed, reflecting off the warrior's face, his voice a quiet hiss. "They don't need to be given a reason to take it back."

Sunstreaker scowled but relented. He settled again, stroking his hands over as much of Sideswipe as he could reach.

Prowl watched the gold hands move over his lover's body with a twinge of envy. The entire time Prowl had worked on the red mech, Sideswipe had flinched away or startled at his touch.

Sunstreaker's touch, by contrast, seemed to relax any tension in his brother's joints.

Prowl stood, and retrieved the full cube, careful not to spill any of its precious contents. Sunstreaker wasn't about to leave his brother after Sideswipe sustained so much damage. Prowl knelt next to the twins, doorwings swaying with his continued efforts to remain steady.

"Sunstreaker, what's your fuel level?"

Sunstreaker glanced at Prowl. He pressed his lips together for a brief moment. "I said 'enough'. Give my portion to Sides."

"Sunstreaker!" Prowl spat with all the force and authority his own waning levels could muster. "You will take your fuel, you will take the amount I tell you to, and you will process it like a good soldier."

"Sides needs it more than I do. Let him have it."

Prowl straightened, doorwings flaring at his side. "He needs you, more than you need to be stupid. Take the damned energon before I pour your portion down your intakes." Prowl shoved the cube at Sunstreaker, holding it up to the golden mech's face until the warrior took the cube from him.

"Cut your fuse short, slaggit. There's not enough in there for all three of us!"

Prowl tilted his head, running the calculations through his processor with barely any pause. "There isn't, if we're looking to top off. Since we're not, we're only seeking enough to survive, than there will be plenty. What is your fuel reading?" Prowl's tone left no room for more hassling.

"I'm hitting just at 15 percent. Think I got a leak though, so it's been dropping sorta fast."

Prowl dimmed his optics as he pulled his mouth to the side. "37.5 liters should be enough then?" At Sunstreaker's nod, Prowl sighed in relief. "Locate that feed and cut it off. There's no need to waste fuel if it's not a vital system."

Without answering, Sunstreaker lifted the cube to his lips and downed his allotted amount. He spat a little of the energon back into the cube before handing it over to Prowl.

Prowl ran another calculation to ensure there would be his intended amount for Sideswipe. He downed exactly 17.23 liters, spitting the excess back into the cube.

Prowl turned to the half-conscious mech in Sunstreaker's lap. The twin helped his brother sit up a little more.

Tapping his fingers against Sideswipe's jaw, Prowl spoke soothing words and tried to coax his mouth open.

Sunstreaker watched Prowl, amusement lighting optics. Golden hands pushed away white, and the warrior leaned down and whispered into his brother's audio receiver. Sideswipe focused on Sunstreaker for only an astrosecond, but opened his mouth for Prowl when coaxed again.

Prowl carefully poured the other 60 percent from the cube into the open mouth. He did his best not to indulge in the useless jealousy that he felt at Sunstreaker's ability to reach his brother. Still his systems twinged and grumbled as he recalled the memory file.

Emptied the cube faded from lack of power, and Sideswipe's optics faded on.

Something broke inside Prowl to see the mech focus on him first and a smile of recognition flash across his face.

"Prowl," he said, his voice breaking and crackling, faint from pain.

Prowl matched Sideswipe's smile with one of his own, cupping his hands over the mech's shoulders. He glanced at Sunstreaker, before tugging his lover out of the yellow twin's arms.

Sunstreaker scowled, but relented his hold on his brother.

Sideswipe rested against Prowl's chestplate, his ventilations rushing over the tactician's neck. Prowl sat back a little more, drawing Sideswipe even closer to him. He held Sideswipe; silent, not knowing what he could say to comfort his lover. He knew that it hurt Sideswipe to be held like this; knew in the slow whine of his body, and the wince of his hands. But he had to hold him and touch him, and know that he would be all right.

He had to know that Sideswipe wouldn't always flinch away from his touch, and that he could comfort him just as well as his brother could.

Sideswipe could have pulled away, could have objected, and could have done any number of things to let either mech know that he didn't want to be touched or held.

But he seemed as content to lean against Prowl, as Prowl was to have him there.

Sunstreaker stayed by Prowl's side, having released Sideswipe, but never removing his hands.

Prowl easily detected the hand that had slid over to rest against the golden leg, and he didn't object, didn't try to hog Sideswipe all to himself. Much as he would have wanted to. He would never have done that to his lover.

Sideswipe's systems hummed into loud recharge. Prowl didn't move, not wanting to jostle the injured mech.

Sunstreaker grunted and slid closer to his brother. "Why don't you recharge as well? I'll keep watch, then we can work on my arm."

Prowl looked at Sunstreaker from under his chevron, the demand to know why he thought he could operate without recharge lodged his vocalizer. The suspicious set to the warrior s mouth answered Prowl's question without him even needing to ask.

Sunstreaker still didn't trust him. He didn't trust Prowl with his helpless brother while they both recharged.

As if he needed another complication for this situation.

* * *

The touch of a hand on his doorwing snapped him online.

"Prowl?"

Prowl turned in alarm, wondering if something had happened to Sideswipe while he was in recharge? Peering over his shoulder at Sunstreaker's calm demeanor, Prowl know that not to be the case. Still his processor didn't slow down as he tried to understand why Sunstreaker would bring him online.

Sunstreaker silently tilted his head toward the corridor.

Prowl booted up his audio receptors, filtering out the static that came through at first until he finally made out the dull clanks of feet coming down the corridor. Prowl jolted upright, his doorwings shivering with the quick boot up of sensors and servos. Sideswipe still lie offline next to Prowl, not even moaning when the hole in his torso occasionally sparked and crackled. Shivers racked his frame, surges that burst through his systems from shorts throughout his frame.

Prowl glanced over at Sunstreaker who hadn't move since Prowl had shut down. "Did you get any recharge at all?"

Sunstreaker frowned at the tactician, his dim optics answering the question before he even had a chance to activate his vocalizer.

"We will discuss the issue later," Prowl returned Sunstreaker's glower with one of his own.

Two guards stopped at the entrance to their cell.

Prowl stiffened in alarm. Were they here to take the twins so soon? Would they give them no respite?

"You," and the Decepticon pointed one long finger at the tactician, "get up and bring your aft over here."

Sunstreaker's systems whirred from forced tension. He grabbed Prowl's elbow before the tactician could stand. Prowl looked back. He felt only mild relief that they weren't taking the warriors, for he did not relish contemplating what the Decepticons had in mind for him.

Sunstreaker gently tugged Prowl back against his shoulder. He leaned forward, resting his cheek against the back of the tactician's helmet.

The Decepticon's engine snarled. "Don't make me repeat myself, Autobot."

Sunstreaker simply tightened his hold on Prowl's joint. "Don't do anything stupid," he whispered harshly into Prowl's audio receptor.

Prowl lifted a brow ridge. "I do believe you are confusing me with your brother."

Sunstreaker harrumphed, but released Prowl's elbow. He leaned away, his lips pressed together in an unhappy mien.

Prowl stood, grazing the wall with his fingers to help keep his balance... His doorwing scraped against the wall with a squeal of metal.

The Decepticon powered down the bars as soon as the tactician came within a meter of the threshold. The larger one grabbed Prowl's doorwing, and yanked the tactician out of the cell and into the corridor. The force of the pull lifted Prowl briefly off his feet and he landed with a jolt. His knees nearly buckled and he staggered a few steps. Prowl widened his stance, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing him stumble, again.

The guards said nothing to him, or the other mech lying online in the cell. They both took hold of one of Prowl's arms and led him down the hall. Their fingers wrapped tightly around the square shape of his lower arm. Prowl had no choice but to follow, his feet left moving of their own volition.

The emptiness of the corridors never failed to intimidate Prowl. No enlisted hurried about their errands. None of the mechs off duty were around to stop and stare at the prisoner. The path between the cellblocks and the Commander's office wound through many hallways and up three lifts. Not once during Prowl's trips between the two destinations had they ever encountered a single Decepticon in the corridor. It made the entire base seemingly devoid of life, even though he knew it wasn't. It was as though Vertigo intended that the lower ranks not know about their high-ranking prisoner.

Although they would surely know about and have access to the twins.

The door to Vertigo's office slid open and Prowl froze at recognizing the voice that emanated from the room. The two guards shoved Prowl through and he lurched forward another few steps, irritated at his seeming lack of balance. The guards prodded him forward, hands shoving painfully into seams and joints. Prowl growled, but walked before the guards. As he ascended the ramp, he locked every miniscule system to prevent them from shaking.

The main screen held Megatron's visage, his conversation with Vertigo cut short by Prowl's arrival. The tyrant's red optics flashed eagerly at the sight of the Autobot tactician. Prowl had to suppress the fear that surged through him. Never before had he even blinked when Megatron's face would appear on the other side of a comm. link. Yet never had he faced the tyrant as a prisoner, held captive (not hostage, _prisoner_) in a Decepticon stronghold (one that he had to admit would be far too difficult to risk a rescue against, if the Autobots had even found them yet), and disarmed to such an extent. Prowl glared at the screen. He remained unshackled, and unhindered by a block. He could _think_, and he knew fear would do him no more good on this battlefield than it did out where the missiles whistled by overhead, and laser fire littered the air. He would not allow the Decepticon (a mech like any other, despite his unnatural hate for anything and anyone he deemed less than him—and it would be easier to list that which he considered greater) the opportunity to instill such fear in him without due warrant. Megatron had done nothing yet, and Prowl only stood in his presence, his freedom a mockery before such force.

"Bring him closer," Megatron rasped.

Prowl stiffened in the guards' hands, but didn't resist as they forced him closer to the camera. Vertigo expected something, and Prowl focused his tactical computer in order to deduce what that might be. Megatron turned his burning gaze away from the tactician to look toward the base commander. "He's been repaired." An observation, calmly delivered but belied by the suspicion in the red optics.

Prowl didn't relent his cold stare from the mech on the screen. He angled his shoulders back, and straightened as much as he could. Repaired he might have been, but only partially. His doorwings still responded only sluggishly to his commands, and there was the recent damage to his legs.

"Ah, you know how bounty hunters are. They couldn't keep their shocksticks to themselves. They had nearly offlined him from carelessness. I knew this wouldn't have served your purpose, _Lord_ Megatron"

Prowl twitched at the blatant lie. Did Vertigo not expect him to take such a golden opportunity to discredit him before his leader? If Vertigo expected such a move, did it truly serve Prowl's purpose of keeping himself and his two soldiers safe and out of Megatron's hands? Prowl had no doubt that Megatron would leave the twins in Halifax as Vertigo's 'reward', but Prowl himself would be taken to Darkmount, and if this happened, then there would be no escape for him. Nor for his soldiers. Keeping silent would do him no good. That was not an option.

"You are a fool, keeping me in one place for so long, Megatron. The Autobots have surely noticed my absence and discovered my location by now. They will not allow you to hold me forever."

Megatron's lip curled up in a disgusted sneer. "Just how long are you saying you've been held?"

Megatron would suggest that Prowl, an Autobot, was lying? He, more than any Decepticon, should know better. He'd often used this simple fact against the Autobots as a whole and Optimus Prime in particular. Indignant, Prowl lifted his chin. "I, and the two under my command, have been held here for three megacycles. If you do not believe me, perhaps I could account for each cycle of my time here."

Vertigo rumbled in amusement.

The Decepticon's laughter finally drew Prowl's gaze away from the screen. Vertigo's optics shone bright with mirth, and Prowl realized with a sinking feeling that he had played exactly as Vertigo had expected him to. "As I told you, Lord Megatron, he has no grasp of time. His chronometer has been corrupted, and no longer runs linear. It affects his entire perception of time."

Prowl stared at the Decepticon, trying to assimilate Vertigo's approach to the situation.

Megatron hummed, leaning away from the screen. "He does not seem to agree with you. Why was that not fixed, as well?"

Vertigo shrugged, insolent almost in his answer, his glare on Prowl, challenging. "It didn't affect what we needed him for, nor did it endanger his life. Why waste the resources?"

Megatron's optics flashed and glanced toward Vertigo; his skepticism clear in the tilt of his mouth and the furrow of his brow.

Prowl wondered why Megatron would allow such arguing in front of their prisoner. Vertigo was instigating this, what was the Decepticon's plan? Did he wish to discredit Prowl before his commander? Yet to remain silent, still could not be considered as an option. Prowl lifted his doorwings. "I'm certain that a basic scan of my processors would ascertain their functioning state."

Megatron pressed his lips together, his optics narrowed as he regarded the two of them. "I have no doubt that he would send me a wholly accurate and unaltered scan."

Several of Prowl's systems jolted in alarm. Did Megatron already _know _that Vertigo was lying? A high probability considering Vertigo's known loyalties. Prowl had used such knowledge to bargain for his and the twins' safety. If the Autobots knew then it would only be accurate to assume Megatron knew as well. How much did Vertigo tell, or rather not tell, Megatron? Could he discredit Vertigo? Even if Vertigo had told Megatron it wouldn't hurt their chances any to make the attempt.

Prowl could not hide the truth from Megatron, and neither could Vertigo. He could delete it, and purge it from his memory database, and if it came down to a less than 10 percent chance of escape, he would do precisely that. Memory files were not something to be handled capriciously, and echoes of information would remain in the lasercore. But when the envoy came, Megatron, or one of his lackeys, they would hack straight into his laser core and rip the data files they wanted. No, he could not hide anything without losing the information himself.

"I am offended that you would ever think otherwise, My Lord." The lack of depth in his bow, and the dripping sarcasm in his tone belied any sincerity that might be found in his words.

Vertigo had to assume that Megatron would find out about the interrogations, he would have to count on it. Not unless he planned a system wide purge, but any medic could detect that, unless he engineered it to look like Prowl had done it to himself. Prowl could, though logically it would not be feasible, and would wind up with him being damaged even more. Did Vertigo count on Prowl considering this, and therefore count on Prowl saying nothing? If Megatron already knew, than what harm would be revealed by informing him? What could Megatron do that was worse than what he already planned? Prowl refused to follow that line of reasoning. He did not want to consider what Megatron might consider as it was, much less what might be worse than that.

Prowl stepped forward, cautiously, sensors oriented on the guards standing behind him, waiting for them to stop him. They didn't so much as twitch a servo "I'm certain that Megatron finds such a loyal and devoted follower far more trustworthy than a simple Autobot prisoner." Prowl flicked a doorwings at the base commander, catching the flash of red optics in his peripheral vision. "The bounty hunters left me immobile, and would have had no reason to apply their shocksticks an extraordinary number of times for the length that they hauled me. I'm certain that such a loyal commander as Vertigo has already shared the information he bargained for, but I assure you it is-"

"False," Megatron said, his chin resting on the back of his hand. His optics glinted with reserved amusement.

The guards shifted behind Prowl, and Vertigo growled at a dangerous pitch. Prowl didn't spare him the processing power for as much as a glance.

"Please, do you think I hadn't expected him to try to wile away any information he could from you? Or that you would agree out of simpering Autobot platitudes to keep your mechs 'safe' or whatever you consider safe. I've seen what he's been doing to them." Megatron's lips lifted in a perverse grin. "You've been giving each other the short end of the stick, thinking you had the upper hand. I knew this would happen, you're both so predictable." Megatron paused, brow ridge lifting as he observed Prowl. "Doesn't Optimus know his mechs so thoroughly?"

Any other mech would have lunged at that insult, but Prowl checked himself, aware that not only could he not reach the Decepticon tyrant, but that Vertigo had just been given reason to lash out at him.

"Any information you've given him has likely been rendered moot at this point. Security codes, locations of energon silos. No, even if any of it was the truth, you wouldn't say what's being moved and what remains or how old that information is. And I know Vertigo wouldn't dare plug into you to find any of that out. He doesn't have a hacker nearly able to keep up with you." Again Megatron smirked. "Why do you think I sent you there, rather than, oh let's say, Vos?"

Metal creaked behind him, making Prowl all too aware that he was in a room with a Decepticon. A powerful Decepticon. One who now had cause to be angry at him.

Prowl calculated his next move, a fraction of an astrosecond so the pause would not seem too long. "Truly not a surprise from the mech who believed the bounty hunters when they said that I was bonded to my soldiers, much less having any unsavory relationship with them."

Vertigo whirled then, as Prowl had expected him to, his pincers retracting to leave only the club of his arm. The full blunt force of the Decepticon's blow threw Prowl to the floor. Metal crashed and clattered, and he couldn't hear out of one receptor. His chevron vibrated, and his doorwings trembled from the impact. He lost any words exchanged between the two to the cacophony of static and ringing metal that occupied his systems. Still he forced himself upright, defiantly rising to his feet despite the way the world reeled about him.

Megatron narrowed his optics, clearly berating his commander. "-someone for him shortly. _Try _not to damage him anymore than he is. Megatron out." The viewscreen went white and then black as it powered down.

Prowl didn't need to hear the first part of Megatron's statement to know: they were coming for him. They were coming for him, and he had yet to have a chance to work out an escape route for the three of them. He calculated their chances to have dropped to 30 perce-

A heavy object collided with Prowl's head, sending him sprawling to the floor. He hadn't even realized that Vertigo had aimed another blow at him.

The Decepticon held Prowl down by his neck cables. He said nothing, but his optics burned with lethal intent.

Prowl wondered if he intended to take away any chance for Megatron to come and retrieve him.

"Get in here!" the Decepticon bellowed. He dropped his knee onto Prowl's thigh with a bang; grabbing hold of the tactician's other thigh with his free pincer-hand.

Prowl's vocalizer glitched in protest to the mishandling, and white hands wrapped around the club-like appendage. He didn't have time to ponder the meaning of the Decepticon's words, far more concerned with preventing him from pulling out any of his cables. He struggled to pull the pincers out of his neck without snagging them on any of the wires or support struts.

"Get your aft in here!"

Prowl's doorwings prevented him from rocking, pinning him on his back far more effectively than anything else the Decepticon did.

Another Decepticon came into the office then, his blue finish glinting with white highlights. Red optics set in a familiar blue face turned toward Prowl. The mask hid any expression on the mech's face much like his Commander. He headed straight for Prowl, kneeling next to the prone Autobot.

Counterpunch said nothing, but his engine ran with... what? Excitement? Anticipation? Nervousness? His blue hands traveled over Prowl's torso, not even pulling away as Prowl continued his struggles.

"Hold still, Autobot, or those two mechs of yours are going back into the torture chamber."

Prowl stilled, engine revving with alarm. "You want to make Megatron's angry?" He knew Counterpunch's goal, he knew even before the fingers pried his interface port open. Prowl arched away from the touch, trying to pull away from the fingers that seemed to measure out his interface equipment with a few sweeps across the connection. They were cleaning it, ensuring there would be no static short from any dust that might be in the way.

A whine whispered out from Prowl's vocalizer, squeezing past dental plates that clenched and ground together. He didn't know what they were doing now, and that frightened him far more than even facing Megatron. A quiver of terror rattled within his engine, reaching through his battle computer and into his

The Decepticon medic plugged a piece of hardware into the open port, and then a soft _click_ sounded as he switched it on.

The small machine powered on. A computer, like what one would upload a... No!

Prowl didn't know if he shouted the word, but noise—denial, revulsion, fear—burst out of his vocalizer. Neither of the Decepticons paid him any mind, intent on the readout on the screen.

Prowl struggled, but he couldn't fight the device. It obliterated his firewalls, defenses designed to guard against the most advanced hacks. The innocuous, little device maliciously attacked Prowl's systems, forcing an upload into the tactician's main hard drive. Prowl's vents stuttered under the strain, unable to stop the device from overclocking his core processors. It ran him into the red, searing pain coursing through his central units.

Vertigo held Prowl's arms down, but the white fingers clawed at the floor, fighting for purchase and leaving shrieking grooves into the metal. The Decepticon levered his body over Prowl's, red optics flaring brightly with excitement. Even as he pinned Prowl's arms down, his pincers caressed the edges of Prowl's chestplate. He didn't look at the mech underneath him, his gaze locked on the miniscule screen in Counterpunch's grip.

The small touches along his grill and bumper, sent surges through Prowl's circuits. He choked, unable to pull enough air into his ventilators to cool the heat that rose and swelled in his engine, Prowl gasped, air rushed through his mouth, but it didn't stop the burning that could not be quenched by any amount of coolant or air, the burning that whipped through his processor, lightning in his programming that stalled whatever it touched.

Coding that no Autobot had created wound its way through Prowl's 's primary programs, it inserted itself into protocols that regulated speech, and motion, and emotion, and still something lurked within his hard drive, uploaded from the little device. A packet that remained inert, but Prowl recognized it for what it was. It terrified him.

A virus.

A virus of unknown design and intent lay in wait for a specific set of commands, of data. Prowl kept himself far away from it, attempting to sequester it within his processor and prevent it from accidentally activating and unleashing its surprise.

"Why are you doing this? What will you gain from this?" Prowl demanded as he tried to try to shove the pincers off his frame, off his arms. He pushed with his legs, and metal grunted as he inched his way up a few micro meters.

Vertigo glared down at Prowl, his optics narrow, almost smirking. "I think the intent is rather obvious don't you? Megatron won't be 'gracing' us with his presence, but that doesn't mean we can't leave something for the one he's going to send. So, just think of it as a surprise for the one fortunate enough to be sent here."

Prowl glared at the Decepticon. The worm latched onto the deepest of his subroutines, and Prowl struggled to remain online, but the worm shut him down system by system.

Prowl's engine heaved, only to stutter and stall and Prowl went offline with it.

* * *

Strokes across his canopy brought him abruptly online. Alarm signals wended down almost immediately with the realization that no Decepticon would be so gentle. He lay with his head in someone's lap, his optics only partially online, everything a hazy, black and white blur. Even without color he knew the shape of those legs; he knew every nook and cranny, each piece of circuitry and every hinge and seam. He had no cause for alarm, and his systems still needed recharge and defrag, cleaning up files and sorting them as needed.

His optics faded offline, and he only moved to curl his fingers over the white thigh beneath him, aware of the soft words that rumbled through his frame even if he couldn't comprehend them.

He lay like that for an innumerable amount of time, his chronometer noticeably malfunctioning. His systems ran at less than peak performance, the worm clogging his processors, the virus eating up space in his hard drive.

A single word whispered through his CPU, nothing created by the worm, but allowed by his own volition: '_Sideswipe...'_

Fingers slid over his cheek, and gently turned his face upward.

"Prowl?"

Prowl sighed and activated his optics with concerted effort.

Blue optics peered down at Prowl, brow ridges drawn together in concern and a beloved voice quietly asked. "You online?"

"Yes."

"Good." The fingers curved, and the tips caressed down Prowl's cheekseam. Sideswipe leaned down, but his wound sparked. His optics dimmed, and he pinched his lips together, pulling his hand away from Prowl's face and straightening his shoulders.

Unwilling to leave the comfort of his lover's lap, Prowl turned his head to look at the hole in Sideswipe's torso. A small trail of energon dribbled out of the wound. Like a kick to his main processor, every system booted up and he heaved himself to his elbows.

Sideswipe pressed a quelling hand to Prowl's chest. "It's okay. The guards just roughed us up a little bit."He rested his head against the wall, but his trembling smile contradicted his words. "You've been offline a while."

Prowl worked his way through that statement, stopping on the pronoun 'us'. He twisted about, seeking for a smidgeon of yellow that would verify the presence of the golden warrior.

"We're okay, Prowl," he repeated. "They didn't take us this time, just you."

Prowl levered himself upright, seeking a better height to look over the two warriors. Sideswipe didn't stop him this time, his optics glowing dimly at Prowl, and his arms limp at his sides.

Sunstreaker lay on the other side of Sideswipe, his optics off, and systems humming quietly in recharge. His placid face such a contrast to his normal appearance that Prowl wondered (not for the first time) if they were truly one and the same mech. His yellow plating no longer gleamed in any spot, dulled by the grimy cell and abuse from their captors. Deep grooves in the paint stood out like rust on steel; grey alloy showing beneath yellow paint. The hole in his arm looked no better, but no worse at the same time The amount of damage done to him, didn't diminish is aesthetic appeal, Sunstreaker remained quite beautiful still.

Dents and dings covered Sideswipe, his red chest plate caved in places from the amount of blows it had received. Sideswipe remained relatively still, each movement measured and calculated; a severe contrast to his normal state of constant, sloppy motion. He stared at a spot on the wall until he noticed Prowl's gaze on him. He quickly smoothed away the pensive expression on his face, but Prowl could still see the shadows in his optics. "I heard jet engines."

Prowl frowned as he pulled up his relevant data on the enemy base. "Halifax focuses primarily on ground operations."

"I know. I do pay attention to more than your doorwings, you know."

Prowl glanced at the mech, arching a brow ridge speculatively. "Are you certain about that?" Prowl flicked his doorwings, scooting closer to the other mech.

Sideswipe's optics brightened slightly, but he couldn't quite manage a smile. He slid his hand up Prowl's canopy. "I'm not stupid."

Prowl's engine revved, surging with fear. Prowl didn't understand why he would be afraid of Sideswipe of all mechs.

Sideswipe drew the tactician closer, fingers tight on the black and white plates. His dim optics peered at Prowl and he shifted his head, as though it would give him a new angle to view Prowl. "Are you okay?" The black fingers slid over Prowl's helmet, and Sideswipe shifted his weight onto one leg, his other arm slipped around Prowl's waist.

Prowl braced his hands against the red chest, supporting the red mech. The sharp crackle of electricity erupting from his torso revealed the effort it took to move. Prowl didn't want the frame too close to his own, not when he couldn't stop the _memories_ from running rampant, sensor ghosts of touch and sight and sound. "You shouldn't be doing this, not right now. They're watching."

"Let them watch." Sideswipe tipped his chin forward, brushing their lips together. "They know about us anyways. Why are you shaking?"

Prowl moved his face away, his optics burning with fearful surges. 'A worm,' the words glitched out of his commands even before they had a chance to reach his vocalizer. He gritted his dental plates, pulling his lips back in frustration as he couldn't force the words out of his vocalizer. He couldn't even say that he couldn't say. The innocuous little program that the Decepticons had uploaded blocked any attempts to explain what they had done. A few glitches burst out of his vocalizer, but that was all he could manage before he gave in. "I don't know."

Sideswipe traced his hand up Prowl's chest, until he could touch a finger to the officer's jaw hinge. "What is it? What did they do to you?"

Prowl leaned as far away as he could without depriving the warrior of support. He shook his head, unable to verbalize what caused him such irrational fear. "I don't know," he finally admitted.

Sidsewipe leaned back, his optics going dark. "Can you tell me why you came back undamaged then? What are they doing?"

Prowl patted the red chest, making sure he was stable against the wall. Thus ensured, Prowl sat back himself, his doorwing keeping in contact with the red magplate, but he didn't touch Sideswipe otherwise.

"They repaired me before they sent me back. Just as I'd told your brother."

The drone of Sideswipes fans filled the following silence, and stated far better than any words the warrior's dissatisfaction with that answer.

Sunstreaker's arm scraped across the ground, drawing the lovers' attention. The blue optics powered on, and the yellow warrior looked up without any hint of guilt, despite having clearly eavesdropped on them.

"I have nothing to admit, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker. I bargained to the best of my ability for your safety. I did take into consideration that they would betray their word. They are after all Decepticons. But I had to try."

Sunstreaker rested his cheek against brother's thigh, not so different from how Prowl had been positioned only a few breems before.

Anything he might have said was interrupted.

Footsteps clanked up the hall, and the murmur of rough voices echoed against the walls.

Sunstreaker sat up, joining his brother along the dirty wall. Three pairs of blue optics turned to the cell door.

They were coming.


	30. Off Guard

**Title **Star-crossed (Chapter 30/?)  
**Author **Okami-chan  
**Pairings/Characters **Prowl/Sideswipe, Prowl/Starscream, Sunstreaker, Skywarp, Thundercracker  
**Rating **M  
**Summary **  
**Warnings **Rape (cross-faction), Torture  
**Author's Note**This chapter is the _whooooole _reason I wrote this 'bonus chapter' in the first place. I think I've been sitting on some of it since….chapter 10? trying to find a good place to put it. Gah, I can't believe it's taken so long!

I almost forgot about it! I meant to post this at the beginning of the month!

Again my thanks go out to autumnsparrow/vermilionbird for betaing this for me. She is _awesome. _–loves!- Also to Tia who had to put up with me angsting over this. I forgot to mention rogueraven/padawansponge, who has also been a cheerleader, and poking me to get this done, and Paleodex, and vixens-shadow also on the cheerleader team.

* * *

Off Guard

Vertigo appeared at the door, red optics glowing exceptionally bright. He glanced into the cell, before keying the bars down. Counterpunch stood behind him, out of the way of the guards that strode past the base commander and fanned out to shield captor from captive.

Sunstreaker rose to his feet and took an unsteady step forward to take a protective stance in front of the other Autobots.

Prowl stood, unable to stop the tremor in his knees and doorwings.

"Get those two away him," Vertigo commanded.

The line of Decepticon guards marched forward in unison, expressions daring the Autobots to put up some resistance. Yet still more guards hovered outside the cell, waiting to be called upon.

Hands clamped onto Sunstreaker, and the golden warrior shouted, his fist snapping out to crash into the nearest face, "Let me go, you slagging Decepticreeps." His foot slammed into one mech's chassis, leaving dirty yellow streaks across blue paint. Edges gouged deep into the paint, revealing bare metal that bent and gave under the powerful impact.

The guard stumbled back, clutching at his damaged chestplate. "Restrain him!"

Another guard surged past Vertigo, two giant steps taking him to the two guards holding Sunstreaker's flailing limbs. The third pressed the warrior against the wall. Their captive howled with fury, his torso bucking violently of the wall as the warrior continued to struggle. The guards smashed him back, metal plating buckling under the force.

Black hands latched onto one of the Decepticon's legs, fingers clawed at the red knee. Unable to stand and in spite of his great pain, Sideswipe had managed to drag himself to aid his brother. Prowl glimpsed Sideswipe's face, twisted with anger and pain. The Decepticon had to release Sunstreaker to strike at the attacker. Sideswipe grabbed the guard's hand, and dragged at the arm, dental plates bared at the Decepticon.

"Get off me you fragging Autobot!"

One hand after another slapped higher on the Decepticon's arm, dragging the mech down. The guard teetered at a precarious angle, and Sideswipe pulled at him again, forcing him to release Sunstreaker. The Decepticon turned, his free hand curled into a fist.

Prowl moved then, his doorwings angled back as he went for the Decepticon's neck. White fingers wrapped around the thick cables and Prowl grunted, pulling with all his might. Sparks showered his arm and face, but he didn't release his hydraulics. Not until one, two, three, the entire handful came free, and the Decepticon screamed in agony.

One of the other guards released the golden mech and turned to assist his comrade, reaching for Prowl.

Sunstreaker lunged forward, breaking free of the final Decepticons' hold. He charged the mech standing at the entrance of their cell, his steps sure and malevolent grin on his face.

Prowl shoved the one he held away, and threw himself at the last of Sunstreaker's guards. Low fuel warnings flashed in his HUD, and he knew that he would have no other chances. Though he could not say for certain what any of them hoped to accomplish, he continued to wail away at the head under his fist. Metal clashed together near the entrance, but Prowl couldn't spare even a moment to glance over. It took all his attention restrain the struggling Decepticon; one arm looped around the Decepticon's neck, and the other pounding and pounding at the red head. He whipped his captive around, avoiding the other guards' reaching hands and wrenching his doorwings away from those going for his shoulders. He clenched his dental plates against the anxiety coursing through his processor, he couldn't give into that. Not right then.

"I'm so glad you have things under control, Vertigo," a deep voice rumbled. Metal shrieked as though it bent in two, and Sunstreaker screamed.

Prowl thought he should know that voice, but he could only process that it did not belong to Megatron. Megatron would not come, as Vertigo had said. He sent envoys—flyers—in his stead. He drove his fist into the Decepticon helm, the metal giving under his blows. Slapping at the tactician's arms, the Decepticon finally wrapped his fingers around a strut and threw him off.

"Autobot filth!" The Decepticon pulled out a weapon, and leveled it towards Prowl.

"Give me that, you idiot." A blue hand reached around and wrenched the rifle away from the guard. "You want _us_ to hurt you?" The rifle turned and walloped the guard upside the head.

Red optics glared down at Prowl, the Seeker's chin tucked down as he regarded the Autobot officer. Flyers. Oh, frag.

Prowl scrambled back; struggling against the fear that threatened to take his systems. He glanced over at Sideswipe, to find the mech pinned low on the wall by a Seeker's knee in his chestplate. He glanced toward the entrance, where Sunstreaker lay pinned to the floor by a black and purple Seeker, the first to have spoken when they entered the cell. Finally he looked at Vertigo, but when he saw who stood behind the base commander, he started and smacked his back into the wall, short, sharp bursts of air puffing from his mouth.

The other two Autobots froze in their struggles, staring at the entry way.

No introductions were needed, not for this nightmare figure.

Red optics burned out of a black face. A white Seeker stepped into the room, red and white wings brushing the base commander; the white paint a sharp contrast to the dingy walls around him. An unpleasant smile lifted into an expectant smirk, and the mech glanced back at Vertigo. "'Everything's under control', is it?"

Metal ground together as Vertigo clenched his fists and stiffened where he stood.

Starscream didn't give the tank a chance to respond. "If we hadn't come in, your mech would have cost us a most valuable prize." His attention turned to Prowl. "I never thought anyone would be able to catch Prime's tactician." Expectant smirk twisted into lecherous leer. "I've wanted to get my hands on you for a long time." His red optics flicked over Prowl, and they brightened with anticipation. "Get cuffs on him and take him over there." A blue finger jabbed out to the end of the rectangular cell.

Vertigo's engine droned in surprise. "_Here? Now?"_

Despite their Commander's protest, two of the guards came for Prowl. They grabbed the tactician's upper struts and hauled him to his feet.

Prowl's fear spiked, punctuated by fingers digging deep into his arms to twist them behind his back, and his door wings ached at the unnatural angle forced upon them. Still, his optics remained locked on the twins and the Decepticons surrounding them. The burn of energon manacles snapped around his wrists, and the guards dragged Prowl to one side of the cell, and then down on his knees.

Starscream smirked at the base commander. "Isn't that what I said?" Hungry optics turned to the two Toughlines next. A gesture from an imperious blue hand, and the Decepticon grunts dragged the twins closer to each other, prostrate before him. "We can't forget you two, either." His lip curled into a sneer. "Tell me, can you name the Seekers you've pulled out of the sky?"

Sunstreaker glared up at the Air Commander, while Sideswipe gasped beside him. Neither answered, not verbally, not even with a twitch of their heads.

Starscream stood before the two brothers, and bent at his waist, jabbing one finger at their helmets. "I can. I can name each and every one of _my_ Seekers that you have crashed." He thrust harder, prying at Sideswipe's audio horn, tearing down the vents on Sunstreaker's horns. "Each. And every. One." The words hissed out of his vocalizer, and he straightened to lash a kick at both of their faces. "It's such a pity that I'm not here to deal with you." He cut a sneer to the tactician. "Although... I think I'll enjoy making you watch me with him."

Prowl stiffened, hands clenched behind his back, the worm wrapped tightly around his logic relays. Fear seared hot lines through his frame, and he could not reason it away. He gritted his dental plates, and lifted his chevron to keep from revealing the panic that revved inside him. He didn't miss Sideswipe's whining gasp, or the fierce glare that Sunstreaker shot at Starscream. But the Air Commander remained oblivious, for his optics had locked on Prowl. He went to the tactician, his steps slow and sure, each one filled with a purpose as dark as his face.

"Prowl, Prowl. Little Autobot stooge." Prowl hunched his shoulders as blue hands caressed the black and white panels on Prowl's back. He tried to shake those horrible hands off, tried to shake off the feeling that surged through his circuits, but the Seeker proved stronger, and he pulled the Enforcer up and against his chest, trailing his lips over the tactician's chevron. Air breezed over the sensors on the red metal, making Prowl shudder and recoil. "You are so beautiful, you know. Granted, you are not as beautiful as I, but for a ground-crawler..." The Decepticon's voice trailed off, his lips finding Prowl's and locking on.

Prowl shook, unable to look at Sideswipe, not wanting to look at Starscream. He shook, wanting to scream and kick at the Decepticon, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. He wouldn't give Starscream that satisfaction. Instead he clenched his jaw, frightened pants wheezing out of his vents. He glared at the floor, running calculations through his logistics program, seeking some way out of the situation. The worm ate up processing power, clogging up his battle computer, creating glitches that seized his CPU, and stalled the programming. He had access to his battle computer, in a situation where he needed it, and it was as useless to him as though he didn't have it. He uncurled his fingers, not even aware that he had balled his hand into a fist. He didn't want to just submit to this. He couldn't fight it, but slaggit if he would just take this without any objection.

Starscream's tender, almost loving kiss soon turned all-consuming. When Prowl's mouth refused to give, the Air Commander simply wrenched the Autobot's jaw down, pinching the mandible between his fingers. His hands then clenched on the white doorwings, hard enough that the metal bent under the Seeker's fingers. "I have wanted to do this for a long, long time, little Seeker-wannabe."

The tactician's engine growled, and he scraped his dental plates on Starscream's lips in warning before biting down.

Starscream jerked his head back. His sneer turned into a victorious smirk, and he placed another mocking tender kiss on Prowl's helm, right in the middle of his chevron. "You will press against me, and tell me just how much you want it."

With those words, Starscream curved his fingers into claws and proceeded to systematically shred the tactician's door panels.

Prowl's mouth sagged opening, but the scream never made it past his vocalizer. He wouldn't let it. Couldn't let Starscream have that satisfaction. Knives of fire in his doorwings drove him against Starscream, but not out of any sense of need, but rather in an overwhelming desire to move _away_ from the pain. It overrode everything else, even the terror that threaded through every system. The explosion of hundreds of sensors as they screamed online, only to vanish lanced through his processor. The worm couldn't counter such overwhelming sensation and its sporadic control under the face of such torment gave Prowl a shred of hope, but his battle computer fritzed when the agony swept over it, the processing cycles dedicated to finding a way out disrupted and shattered by the desperate and most base need to _escape_. He arched himself away from the Seeker's torturous hands, heedless of Starscream's deprecating laugh. Yet a small part of his battle computer could appreciate that Starscream had achieved at least one goal. Fire coursed through his circuits, burning in his shoulders as Starscream ripped his doorwings apart, wire by wire. Prowl's battered chestplate banged against Starscream, and his helm scraped against the Decepticon's shoulder vents. He buried his face against the mech's chest and bit down seeking some form of release from the pain.

Starscream yelped, jumping in surprise, but he didn't stop his torment.

He could feel every rip, every pull, every time Starscream's fingers bit into him. He found no release in screaming silently in his mind, his optics fritzing in shock, filling his world with static. The torture seemed to end as suddenly as it began. Overloaded by the sensory data, the worm was slow to take hold again. He sagged against Starscream, his legs unable to hold him any longer as they shorted out.

Starscream shoved his victim away, sending the tactician sprawling on his broken door panels. "Stand up," he shrieked. "Stand up, and take it. Or shall I turn my attentions on one of your two companions? They _both_ have earned it, if only because it'll show Prime how weak you are, unable to protect your soldiers."

Prowl's engine betrayed him with a soft whine as he rolled to his knees. He curled in on them, his frame shaking with the agony radiating from his doorwings. The worm recalibrated itself slowly, and he knew that he needed to gain his feet before fear locked all his processes again. He couldn't find his balance with his hands tied behind his back, and his fuel tank churned at the thought of Starscream laying his hands on Sideswipe. The red twin had suffered enough, both his own and his brother's pain. Prowl couldn't allow Starscream to touch him.

But he couldn't find his balance. His doorwings! They were throwing him off. He had to recalculate, and re-evaluate his center of gravity. The useless panels hanging limply at his side would do him no good. And still the worm laced itself through his processor, overriding firewalls and security blocks to gain control once more.

Apparently, he took too long for the Air Commander's taste.

A booster heel crashed into his shoulder. "_Stand up_, you slagging Autobot heap of scrap! Stand up, now!" The foot came down again and again, crushing the tactician's shoulder magplate and landing on the shredded doorwing. "If you don't, I'll let my Seekers have at your two pretty mechs over there."

Skywarp positively leered down at Sunstreaker, while the other simply crossed his arms over his chest and smirked.

Prowl ground his dental plates. The worm dug into coding, tearing down the suppression programs that blocked the pain. "Ca-" Another bout of pain surged through his back, and he cut his vocalizer off against a whimper. "I can't." He wavered on his knees, demonstrating his imbalance. "Don't hurt them. Help me up, and I'll stand."

Starscream laughed, short and sharp, delivering another kick into the tactician's side. He reached down and grabbed Prowl by the elbow, lifting him up as easily as one would a minibot. "_Don't_ make me help you up again, my little wannabe," Blue fingers tenderly trailed down Prowl's cheek seam, only to find the bottom of his jaw and dig into the opening that allowed the neck cabling through. He forced Prowl's head up, burning red optics meeting flickering blue. "I promise that _they_" and he looked meaningfully over at the two twins, "won't appreciate it."

Prowl refused to look toward them, refused to look up at Starscream. He stared evenly at the vents in Starscream's chest. He struggled through the pain, struggled to shut down his pain receptors, fighting against the worm that infiltrated every system in his body.

Starscream tilted his head, optics narrowing. "Is there something wrong with you? You're barely fighting." Blue hands seized Prowl's chin, forcing the blue optics to meet red once again. "Is this the best that you can do?" He turned a glare on Vertigo. "Is his slagging battle computer online? I told you I wanted it left on."

The worm had control again, locking Prowl's vocalizer against any response he might have given; his ventilations rushed harshly out his mouth, panting gasps of unfettered terror.

"Perhaps, Starscream, even the Autobot Second-in-Command is terrified of your reputation," Vertigo commented, dryly.

Starscream stared down at Prowl, seemingly ignoring Vertigo's thinly veiled insolence. He turned the tactician's head as though examining him from every possible angle. "Are you afraid?"

Prowl's optics flashed his defiance, stifling the terror that sought to sink into his spark. His vocalizer hissed with static, words broken and unintelligible, distorted by the worm. '_I am not going to tell him,'_ he told the viral construct. Thousands of lines of code ran through his processor as the worm seemed to contemplate his words. Another thousand lines and Prowl's vocalizer finally clicked on, under his command. "No."

Starscream laughed then, throwing his head back to howl at the ceiling.

Prowl took the opportunity to glance at the two mechs on the floor. Sunstreaker glared, ignoring the sparks that arched from his damaged arm. Sideswipe's attention wavered as pained flickered in his optics, but his gaze didn't leave the two mechs near the entrance of the cell.

A blue fist crashed into Prowl's helm, sending the tactician down to one knee. "Pay attention to _me, _not those sniveling cowards. They're not the ones who have you on your _knees_." The air commander smashed the tactician's other knee to the floor, grinding his heel into the thigh plating. "_They're_ not going to have you writhing and screaming in pain."

Prowl bent over the mech's foot planted in his thigh, ventilators hissing as he strained against the scream lodged in his vocalizer. His leg refused to respond, air hissing from damaged hydraulics. He threw more lines of code at the worm in his systems, trying to control the fear it poured into his emotion protocols. "You won't get even a moan," he finally managed to spit out.

Starscream's dental plates squealed above Prowl's head, and the tactician turned his head to look up at the Air Commander. He forced his mouth into a smirk, knowing how the gesture would rankle the Decepticon.

"We'll see about that!" Starscream snarled, grinding his heel down. Then he stepped off Prowl's leg, and wrapped his fingers around the red chevron. The metal buckled in the blue fist, and he yanked Prowl to his feet. He wrenched the tactician's head back, glaring down at the blue optics. "Does it bother you, little wannabe? Does it bother you to be so humiliated in front of your soldiers?" Starscream whispered secretively, his lips brushing against the tactician's. The Seeker's optics narrowed, and his voice rose in decibels. "Are you two _enjoying _this over there?" He dropped the tactician's chin, and kicked Prowl's feet out from under him. Prowl landed on his damaged doorwings, arcing over to his side to relieve the pain.

Starscream stood over Prowl, the tips of his toe joints digging into the tactician's aching canopy. The Seeker shoved his feet even more into Prowl's back, widening his stance, though Prowl couldn't detect any more than that of the Decepticon's posture with his doorwings broken as they were.

Prowl faced the twins, and he didn't want to look at them, didn't want to see the pity in their optics, but Starscream leaned forward and hissed for Prowl to keep his optics online in a low tone.

"Look at your _superior_, see how he trembles at my touch." Starscream reached down, and caressed his hands over the broken and sparking door panels. He grabbed a handful of wires and ripped them out, making Prowl's vocalizer glitch with pain.

Sunstreaker bared his dental plates, grinding them together, but he didn't look away. Neither of them did. Even Sideswipe who wavered between consciousness and stasis kept his focus on Prowl. They gave him the same focus they dedicated to each other.

Prowl wished they would look away for him. He didn't want his soldiers— didn't want Sideswipe—to see him like this.

But the two Toughlines never dimmed their optics.

Starscream knelt down, reaching across Prowl's frame to plant his right hand just in front of Prowl's torso. The fingers of his other hand caressed the plastiglass windshield on the tactician's back.

Prowl panted harshly, looking at the floor rather than at the two Autobots watching them. He didn't have to see the Seeker's face to know the sadistic smirk that played across it.

"Wouldn't one of you like to join in?" The mech shifted, balancing on his left hand to caress Prowl's cheek with the right. "Look at him, so weak and sentimental. Doesn't even want to look at you two." The fingers trailed down the front of the Enforcer's chestplate, and slid underneath the dented bumper, caressing the engine shivering just beneath the plating. It revved with the panic that Prowl couldn't suppress. "How much did you suffer for his sake? Did he do anything to stop Vertigo?"

Prowl's optics snapped up at that, his jaw clicking shut despite the heat that built up. Sideswipe glared, but Sunstreaker...

Sunstreaker tucked his chin lower, scowl deepening. Uncertain.

The golden mech met Prowl's gaze, but the Decepticons didn't allow their contemplation to linger. Skywarp dug his fingers into the golden head vents, and dragged Sunstreaker's head to the side.

"He's our commander," Sideswipe suddenly said, his vocalizer laced with static from pain.

Starscream scoffed loudly, and he leaned down to hiss in Prowl's audio receptor, "Oh such foolish faith they have." The fingers under the tactician's bumper found a piece of loose metal and twisted it about painfully.

Prowl snarled and viciously kicked the Decepticon commander's legs out from under him.

Starscream cried out and crashed down on top of Prowl. "Stupid Autobot!" Metal clattered and clanged as Starscream sputtered and groped for the leverage to shove himself off the tactician. "What the slag are you thinking?" He sneered and then struck out at Prowl's head. Once again he grabbed hold of the red chevron, his fingers wrapped tightly around the wrinkled metal, twisting it in his grip. He dragged Prowl around onto his back, with no consideration for the arms pinned under the tactician's canopy

Metal scraped and shrieked in protest as Prowl struggled to get out from under his Decepticon captor. Starscream cursed, settling his legs on either side of Prowl's frame and pinning the tactician's shoulder's to the floor.

Prowl's doorwings scraped against the floor, sending up flashes and sparks. He gritted his dental plates, fingers curled futilely in his palm, and he arched his back trying his hardest to relieve the pain in his arms.

"You might." A blue fist cracked across Prowl's battered and useless optic. "Want." Another blow landed across his jaw. "To hold." Then one smashed his cheekguard in. "Still." The last one landed crushed it, and the back of Prowl's head cracked against the floor from the impact.

He reeled, disoriented by the multiple blows to his face.

A hand wrenched open Prowl's interface cover. Fingers ran eagerly over the port, scraping across the edges. Starscream didn't look at Prowl's face, his gaze intent on the housing that bent under his rough fingers.

Prowl grunted, desperately trying to twist his arms out from under him. Frantic to be free, to fight back. He didn't want this! Not _Starscream_ linked in and going through his systems. The worm tweaked his coding, exacerbating his fear into something unmanageable. His battle computer responded sluggishly under the torrent of unreasoning emotions from the worm.

Rather than process what was about to happen, Prowl forced his mind to focus on coming up with a solution to his dilemma. He refused to accept the failed simulations from his battle computer.

There had to be some way to stop this.

The clank of Starscream's hand scraping against his bumper sent a surge of terror coursing unfettered through his core. Starscream spoke to Vertigo, a leg pinning Prowl's thighs, one hand on his shoulder, holding the tactician down, the other fumbling at his own torso for to release his interface panel. Prowl couldn't make out the words, his audio receptors buzzing with static and the words garbled by the damage to his head. He shuddered as he realized the Air Commanded was gloating about his 'conquest.'

He hoped Sideswipe couldn't hear it. Foolish as that thought may be. As though his lover were not _right _there, _seeing_ it happen. Unable to stop it. _He couldn't stop it._

Metal already alive with current scraped across Prowl's interface housing, sending shivers through the tactician's servomotors. Prowl grunted again, his feet scraping across the filthy floor and he wrenched his arms, desperate to be free, to fight. Even if it meant his death, that would be preferable than letting Starscream plug in and hack his way into Prowl's deepest secrets. Than knowing that the Seeker would learn _everything_.

His processor surged with terror, the worm latching on and lagging his battle computer.

The worm?

Oh Primus, the virus! Vertigo knew that whoever Megatron sent would do this; he wanted to infect that mech even at the cost of Prowl's own life, for the virus would attack Prowl's systems when it went after Starscream's as well. He couldn't protect Sideswipe and his brother like that. This couldn't happen, he couldn't give up.

"You don't want to do this," Prowl gasped, his vents open to their widest to draw cool air own, only to receive the heat coming from Starscream's systems.

The Seeker laughed, a short and sharp bark of sound. The red optics swooped down to glare into Prowl's own. "Oh yes, I do." The Decepticon snapped his plug into the open port.

Starscream sneered, their systems syncing. He went straight for Prowl's memory banks, hacking his way through every firewall that he came across.

Prowl struggled, lost within his own processor, sorting and deleting sensitive information, and throwing up more firewalls, all in an attempt to stop Starscream. Static blew from his vocalizer, a helpless whimper of sound.

The virus registered Starscream's intrusion and immediately attacked; a missile that struck directly at the link to Starscream and left corruption and scrambled data in its wake.

Starscream chuckled, "Looks like l _am_ going to get to hear you - _auuuuuuuuugh_!" The Air Commander lurched back, shrieking.

Prowl's vocalizer shut down before he could make any further noise, but his world filled with static, his sensors going haywire with an overload of sensory data.

"Well, certainly you'll be hearing that from him, Starscream…" one of the other Seekers commented.

"Aww, is one Autobot to much for the great Starscream?" Vertigo chimed in, his voice broken by the static from the virus.

"_Aaaaaaaahhhhhh-oh_ you idiots! The slagging dolt has a virus in his systems. Don't just stand there gawking, _disconnect me._"

Nothing happened for quite a few astroseconds if Prowl could still trust his chronometer. Then the room resounded with the sound of hurried feet, and the scuffle of heels scraping along the floor. Prowl picked up every nuance of sound, registering the vibrations long after they faded from the air and metal. Every layer of sound impacted his processor building and building, hyperactive sensory nodes picking up the faintest sensation from all over his body.

It all felt so familiar, and so wrong. Every system running at higher than normal speeds, as though they were stimulated beyond compare. That was it! Stimsticks! It felt like he'd plugged a fistful of stimstick into every accessible port.

The virus over clocked every one of his sensory arrays, increasing their gain until they worked far beyond the normal parameters. Sound rattled across his plates, reaching down into the foul energon stored within his fuel tank.

Hands scrabbled at his torso, ripping away Starscream's plug.

Everything started to slow down and lag as the surge of information overloaded his processor. His vision became blanketed by leaps between frames making it seem like the Decepticons moved instantaneously around Starscream, lifting the Air Commander out of the cell. Their words broke and scattered, incomprehensible to Prowl's aching processors. He couldn't expel heat fast enough, he couldn't pull in enough cool air, his fans stuttered with the lag. They couldn't keep up with demand consistently enough to make a difference.

Someone appeared at his side, rolling him onto his shoulder. The energon cuffs clicked off, freeing Prowl's arms. A whine escaped the tactician's engine, shuddering along his plating. He couldn't hear the words the mech said, but he recognized Starscream's name in the furious shriek. A foot slammed into Prowl's back, jamming the toe joints deep into Prowl's doorwing hinges.

Prowl caught a brief glimpse of a red mech, one who had stood behind Counterpunch when the Commander first brought Starscream. A guard. He appeared familiar… However the lag caught his recognition protocols and Prowl couldn't verify any identity on the visored and masked mech.

The crowd at the entrance left, Starscream shrieking his outrage and torment all the way down the hall, until only one mech remained. Prowl didn't need to engage his recognition protocols to know that it was Vertigo leering down at him from the other side of the energon bars.

Prowl's processor finally caught up with everything, leaving him once again aware of every shock of agony in his doorwings, and every piece of grit under his frame. Even the scrape of his arms against the floor, or against his own plating drove knives through his sensors. He didn't even realize that he was no longer caught up in a lag until the Base Commander finally spoke, his voice low, and engine purring.

"I hope you're enjoying my little gift, Autobot. You wouldn't happen to want to know what it will do to you in the end?" Vertigo paused to chuckle at Prowl's failed attempt to glare. "It'll leave you in the agony I'm sure you already feel, right now. Eventually you'll start burning out your minor systems, overloading in the most excruciating ways. There are actually a couple of ways that you could die: your spark could give out as your systems try to maintain the high settings they're running on; you could die of starvation, because your systems are running at such a demanding pace that your converters can't keep up, no matter how much energon you consume; you could go mad from the amount of data going through your sensors, regretfully ending your own life by ripping out your own fuel lines, we lost a few test subjects like that; finally you could suffer a short massive enough to wipe your motherboard and leave you with no more sense than an empty. Then there would be nothing more _merciful_ than to kill you. Although," and his optics flashed with the rev of his engine and he shifted on his feet, "the thought of having you, the Autobot second-in-command, as a mindless drone at my beck and call…" he sighed gustily through his vents, "Well there's an image for my recharge cycle."

Prowl gritted his dental plates, grimacing as he tried to pivot his shoulder joint. His vocalizer finally crackled online, laced with static and broken with pain, "Aren't you the least bit worried about what Starscream will have done to you for not checking your prisoner for viruses before he plugged in?"

Vertigo waved the question off, glancing down the hall to the brig's main corridor. "What good are lackeys if they can't take the blame for you? The medic was incompetent, of course."

Prowl tried to move his shoulder again, his fingers dragging against the floor behind his back. Why had that Decepticon unshackled him? "You think Megatron will accept that?"

"Megatron? No. But it will give Starscream someone to throw his temper at while the virus eats away at his sanity." Vertigo laughed again, as abruptly as the last time. "He's going to be begging the Autobots for the antivirus," a drive stick dangled from Vertigo's pincers, "and they won't be able to help him."

Prowl watched in horror as it dropped from the Decepticon's hold and one large treaded foot lifted and crushed the miniscule device.

"Whoopsie." Hydraulics hissed as the foot ground the stick into the floor, and then scattered the remains over the filthy floor.

Prowl stared at the broken shell that had held his hope to remove this virus without a medic nearby. He looked back up at Vertigo, not sure if he managed to maintain a neutral gaze, or if his despair showed on his face.

The Decepticon's optics narrowed in that wicked smirk again. "I look forward to seeing the end results." With that he turned and strode down the corridor.

* * *

A sigh vented from somewhere behind him. Metal screeched, almost drowning out Sunstreaker's soft inquiry, "Prowl?"

The tactician curled his legs up, rolled on his bumper to his knees. His arms landed on either side, the fingers twitching spasmodically. The surges burned as his shoulder and arm renewed their connections and he lost another few astroseconds to lag. Short, sharp bursts erupted from his vocalizer, each one rattling down his plating, all the way to his toe joints.

"Prowl?"

His arm twitched one last time, and then hydraulics sluggishly dragged his knuckles across the gritty floor. His elbows lifted, curling his fingers, until finally his hand flopped over to rest on his open palms. He didn't want to move anymore; he didn't think he had the reserves. He hurt. Everything hurt.

Prowl whimpered at the sudden shriek of dragging metal. He turned his head and looked up, to find Sunstreaker inching closer, his legs dragging behind him and making that awful noise.

"Stop," Prowl ordered as sternly as he could, but his vocalizer only managed a weak gasp of sound.

Sunstreaker must have heard and understood him anyways, because he did halt his progress. His bright blue optics regarded the tactician, and then glanced back at the too still figure lying near the wall. "Prowl…you gotta hurry up. Sides isn't looking so good."

Prowl tried to focus on the red frame behind Sunstreaker, but his sensors still screamed at him with too much data. And Sunstreaker's dirty paint reflected every beam of light straight into Prowl's optical array, lighting the sensors aflame with pain. "Give me a breem."

"He may not have a breem! I thought you said you-"

Prowl forced power into his vocalizer, even though it throbbed against his mandible with each vibration. "_Give _me a _breem._"

A glare half-formed on the warrior's face, but it faded quickly into solemnity, and he nodded. He crawled back over to his brother, the horrible shrieks of his motions grating through Prowl's entire sensory net.

Prowl sat up, the remains of his doorwings sparking as they attempted to balance his heavy chest. Each spark felt like every wire in his frame had shorted out. Prowl forced himself to ignore it, engaging his battle computer as a distraction from the pain. His wrenched arms complained at being forced to push him upright, and his damaged thigh groaned and shuddered. Standing was excruciating, his balance uneven, and his legs threatened to give at any moment. He limped his way over to the two Toughlines only to partly collapse against the wall near them. He winced when he threw out another series of sparks from his doorwings as he squealed his way down the wall.

He glanced toward Sunstreaker, laying on his front with his legs limp behind him. "What's wrong with your legs?" Sunstreaker could walk before, couldn't he? Prowl wasn't sure he could remember accurately anymore.

"Just need to reroute some circuits," Sunstreaker grunted back, his optics never leaving Sideswipe.

Prowl finally turned his attention on Sideswipe, the smell of burnt wires overpowering his too-attuned olfactory sensors. The red mech's systems ran too cold, barely fed by the energon from his fuel pump. The tactician struggled to lift the heavy frame, his damaged arms protesting the weight. Sunstreaker braced himself on the elbow of his broken arm, and pulled on one of Sideswipe's shoulders with his other hand. Together they turned the warrior over, and Prowl froze as he noticed the amount of energon pooled under Sideswipe.

He hesitated, considering his options, too few, and his supplies, even less. And they were on the other side of the slagging cell. A trip that would take more effort than Prowl was able to put out right then. He would have to make do with what he had in the immediate vicinity.

Prowl plunged his hands into the hole in the mech's torso, energon oozing into his joints and burning his hypersensitive relays. He couldn't tell where the leaks were, even with his sensory net making him aware of every puff of air from Sunstreaker's vent, of the chill burn on the red twin's dying frame, of the scrape of wires and tubing and the sticky energon that coated everything.

Prowl shoved all thoughts of what had happened to him to the side as he forced himself to focus on the frame under his hands. He did his best to wipe clean the mech's insides and repair what little he could. He couldn't let himself contemplate just who he had under his trembling fingers. His battle computer attempting to stave off the distraction of his overpowered sensors ran calculations on every possibility. As a result he watched their chance of surviving imprisonment dwindle with each passing breem. It disturbed Prowl that he could do next to nothing for his soldiers, but watch them die. He couldn't even ease their pain. Still he refused to give up, determined to get them out of there.

Prowl sat back, clenching his hands as he regarded Sideswipe. He'd done all he could for the mech, Sunstreaker assisting as he could despite his damaged arm and legs. The Decepticons had hurt Sideswipe, without even realizing what the mech meant to Prowl. He did not doubt that it was for the better. He could calculate, in his hypersensitive state, just what cruelties would befall the lover of an Autobot officer.

"I should kill you."

Prowl lifted his head from his dark contemplations, meeting the seething glow of Sunstreaker's optics. The tactician vented a sigh, unbothered by the statement. He only wondered what had prompted it, this time.

Sunstreaker sat up on his knees, his repairs working, apparently, and scooted closer, grabbing Prowl by the shoulder. He slid his hand around the back of Prowl's neck, caressing the edges of his collar.

Prowl shivered at the all-too familiar scrape of ragged fingers. "What is it this time?" He turned his optics away from the mech's stare, overwhelmed by the amount of detail he couldn't help but take in: the small dents along his seams, the slats bent out of alignment on his vents, the crack on one optic revealing the tiny mechanisms beneath, the slight dimple in his lip, leftovers from his sessions with the Decepticons.

Sunstreaker gritted his dental plates and pressed forward, his hand sliding over the cables of Prowl's neck. "It'd be the best thing for you, wouldn't it? The most merciful?" he murmured almost lovingly, as though it were the greatest favor he could offer. "Where the slag did you get a _virus _from? Is that a new standard program for officers?" He tightened his grip on Prowl's neck and pulled the tactician back.

Prowl whimpered, his doorwings surging in pain. "No." His vocalizer stuttered and glitched, but his arms wouldn't lift enough to grab at Sunstreaker's arms. Starscream had wrenched them too far. He still couldn't force the words out. He couldn't place the blame on Vertigo. He needed to say something, because suspicion crawled across Sunstreaker's face. "Not Autobot programming," he finally managed.

Sunstreaker, sat back on his heels, dropping his hand from Prowl's neck. "What the frag are you talking about?"

Prowl pulled away, wanting away from the far too intense twin. His fingers brushed Sideswipe's arm, the brief contact a source of reassurance. "Do you think Optimus would ever approve installing a program like that?"

Sunstreaker frowned, his optics narrowing as he looked at Prowl; they flicked over to his brother, before settling back on Prowl. "Those slaggers did this to you, didn't they? Fraggit, what can we do?"

Feet clanked outside, announcing another's presence.

Sunstreaker grabbed at Prowl again, but only so that he could force himself to his feet. He took the few unsteady steps to stand in front of his brother, and, by extension, Prowl.

Counterpunch entered their cell. He held a tray of energon cubes in one hand, and in his other…

Prowl straightened, bracing his hand against the wall to push himself to his feet. The Decepticon had brought a med kit with him. A _med kit._ Why. Who was it for? What did it have in it? The thoughts coursed through his processor, as painful as the vibrations against his plates.

The red visor turned toward them, but the mask over his lower face hid his expression. He looked between the three Autobots and then jerked his head to the side. "Thundering spires, look at the mess I have to clean up. Get out of my way so I can do my work and leave your pathetic presences."

Sunstreaker widened his stance, his engine moaning out the cheap imitation of a growl. His hands curled into fists, and Prowl's hyperactive receivers picked up the slight squeal of his dental plates grinding against each other. "Like slag I'm gonna do that."

Something about the mech's phrase, and his vocal tones registered as familiar in Prowl's memory.

"Starscream wants them two fit to witness his vengeance on ya. He's determined that you're gonna give him the antivirus." The mech's tone implied that he knew the truth, the bright flash behind his visor conveying some emotion, though Prowl could not deduce what it was.

The tactician couldn't take his hand off the wall; his thigh wouldn't support his weight. He burned within, his systems running hot again from the virus in his processor. "You intend to repair him?"

Sunstreaker spun about, working hand flicking out to catch his balance on the wall. His optics flared, and his lips pulled away from his dental plates. "Pit makes you think I'm going to let that happen?" He turned back to the all-too-patient Decepticon, his shoulders hunched. "Give that med kit to Prowl, and let _him_ do the repairs."

The red mech tilted his head, optics flickering briefly. Gears whined softly, like facial mechanisms that lifted in a smile, or a smirk. The Decepticon's deep voice fluttered lightly with a chuckle. "Of course, I leave these with ya, and you'll engineer your escape, or even if I stay here you turn one of the tools against me. Think, I'm stupid?"

Sunstreaker snarled, his body tensing. "You're a Decepticon, doesn't that cover it?"

Prowl pressed his lips together, trying to place the pattern of the mech's words, and his voice. Prowl didn't recognize that voice, even if it hadn't been altered from the original settings. Authorization codes ran across his HUD, triggered by specific strings of words and Prowl suddenly straightened, his optics widening in understanding. What was one of them doing here? He kept his vocalizer turned off, refusing to utter the word and give the game away. "Sunstreaker, you're wasting valuable time that a trained medic could be using to save your brother's life." The tactician's optics never left the Decepticon's visor.

"Say _what?_"

"Are your audio receivers malfunctioning?" Prowl snapped back.

Sunstreaker jolted in place, and his joints creaked, tensing for action, but he did as Prowl commanded and he stepped away from his brother's form.

Prowl took hold of the golden arm and drew the mech to the side, though his optics never left the Decepticon at the other end of the cell. Three steps, and the two Autobots stood against the opposite wall.

Prowl's fuel pump suddenly had nothing to pull from, and he slid down the wall, leaving a streak of white paint behind. Sunstreaker turned and caught the tactician, steadying him and sinking down with him.

Prowl powered down what nonessential systems he could, the virus limiting those as it continued to run him hot. The ragged edges of his doorwings scraped against the wall, and Sunstreaker's shoulder, and knives drove themselves into his back and sides, and he could even feel the strips of metal that used to have paint on them, but now only had cold metal against colder metal.

The faux-Decepticon knelt down next to Sideswipe and immediately set to work. Prowl—aware of every clink and slice and hiss and splatter—couldn't help but wonder when he'd learned such extensive first aid. If it got Sideswipe back to the point of actually being mobile, then it bested Prowl's own extensive database on the matter.

Sunstreaker leaned close, one arm sliding around the tactician's waist and drawing him snug against the dented yellow frame. Lips scraped the white helm, and an observer might almost think the yellow warrior was comforting Prowl, or acting protective.

Prowl, however, knew better.

"What the slag are you _thinking?_ Is there something you're not telling me?

Prowl glanced at the yellow fin he could see in the corner of his vision. He carefully considered his words, watching the faux-Decepticon work on Sideswipe. "I'm an officer. Of course there are things I don't tell you."

Yellow fingers gripped Prowl's chin, forcing the tactician's head to turn. "My brother is under the wrench of a Decepticon, and Decepticons, if I might remind you, are the reason that he's in that position in the first place." The blue optics narrowed, flashing brilliantly across his battered face. "_Don't_ play games with me."

Prowl flinched at the harsh touch of the other mech. Sunstreaker's fingers pressed into the tactician's jaw, but to the overdriven sensors, he might as well have been pounding on Prowl's face. So he reached up, though he could reach no higher than Sunstreaker's elbow, and pulled the errant hand away from his jaw. The rising temperature of his body elicited a peal from his vocalizer, a shriek of feedback rising above his words. "I'm not."

Sunstreaker winced at the sound, single hand jerking toward his audio receiver in a futile gesture.

Tools banged into a hollow box, drawing the two mech's attention. "Waste of my slaggin' time, fixin' these glitches." The faux Decepticon stood, one foot shooting out to rap against Sideswipe's chest. Prowl did not miss that the mech had pulled his kick either, able to detect the minute changes in hydraulics suddenly losing power.

"What the frag?" Sunstreaker murmured, and Prowl realized that the golden warrior not only had noticed the restrained kick, but now knew, or at least suspected the presence of the spy.

The mech approached the two Autobots huddled together against the wall. "I'm supposed to make sure ya finish your energon, too. Can't have you goin' inta stasis 'cause you're depleted." The med kit nowhere in sight, he only held a tray of energon cubes, one of which he picked up and handed to Sunstreaker. The red visor turned to Prowl. "I'm gonna have to help you, aren't I?" Disgust laced his tone, belying the dimming light of his hidden optics. He picked up one of the other cubes, the low grade within swirling in darker than normal colors.

Prowl stared, unsure what the mech's intent was. If he planned on helping them escape, then it did make sense to repair Sideswipe, it made sense to give them fuel. Prowl suspected that even the gentle kick had served a purpose. The question had been an order, really, and in this instance, here on the field, this mech outranked Prowl. Still, what purpose did overseeing Prowl's fuelling serve? Unless…

The energon, visibly gritty, and moving with a thickness that suggested it would go down as well as caked grease, should not be so darkly-colored. And, Prowl noticed, his was the only cube with such coloration. The last one, obviously reserved for Sideswipe, glowed with the normal dullness of what Decepticons called prisoner rations.

A red hand slid behind Prowl's head, smooth fingers gripping the white helm firmly.

Prowl could not even manage a token resistance for show. The energon cube pressed against his mouth, liquid oozing over his lips. The corner of the cube bit into his malleable face plates, forcing him to open his mouth and accept the disgusting stuff. The fingers tightened, the mech standing over Prowl in a peculiar way. '_He's shielding this from the cameras,_' Prowl realized with a start, vocalizer shrieking briefly to life.

Something besides energon tumbled into his mouth, and Prowl gagged as it struck the back of his tracheal tubing and stuck. Rounded cylinder on one end, the blockier side caught between his dental plates, and refused to budge. His fuel pump started again, drawing power from the energon it forced through the rest of his frame. Finding strength in his limbs again, Prowl shoved the other mech away, bending forward and working his jaw to loosen the object. It rattled in his mouth, giving off an energy that drew a horrible screech from his vocalizer, one that pierced his audio receptors with an equally horrible feedback shriek.

"Ungrateful wretch." A fist slammed down on the back of Prowl's neck, jostling the object loose and letting the tactician finally close his mouth. "This is how you thank Decepticon generosity?"

Prowl pushed himself back up, until he sat against the wall again and could look the mech in the visor again. He couldn't answer the mech with the device so close to his vocalizer, and his mouth full of energon too thick to slide past the thing, but he managed a pinched frown.

An energon cube bounced the side of the red head. "If this is the Decepticons' idea of generosity, it's a wonder you can manage to keep any prisoners alive. This is rubbish; I've had better energon in the slums of Straxus."

Their savior let out a choked sound, and his visor flashed. "Maybe I should dump this rather than give it to your damaged friend over there." He held the last energon cube, the tray now gone from his hands. His gaze turned back to Prowl. "It ain't like he's gonna need much." One of the lights behind his visor dimmed, and his helm tilted toward Prowl's right.

Sunstreaker snarled, his field humming violently against Prowl's.

Prowl quietly lowered his right hand, and his fingers clicked against a smooth flat surface, far too clean to be a part of the floor. The tray.

The faux-Decepticon plunked the energon cube to the floor. "I got better things ta do then funnel-feed simpering Autobots. Ain't like you'll let him starve t' put that in yer own tanks." With that the red mech stormed out, kicking at scrap on the floor where Prowl had lain earlier.


End file.
